


You Found Me

by DiamantNoir



Series: Powers That Be [5]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Anxiety, Childhood Trauma, Fluff and Angst, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kissing, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Slice of Life, Strangers to Lovers, Superpowers, hints at Markhyuck, jaehyun and taeyong are awkward, minor past cheating but it isn't the boys who do it, seriously...it never gets easier, so awkward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25720897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamantNoir/pseuds/DiamantNoir
Summary: Reading people's minds is more pain than it's worth, but Taeyong doesn't have a choice.He's spent the majority of his life listening to other people's internal struggles that he's barely had time to focus on his own. That is, until he gets an almost-too-perfect new neighbor, who would very much like to get to know him.Jaehyun is the Empath next door. Not scared to be honest about his powers, he shows Taeyong what he could have if he just let go a little.It's too bad that's a lot harder than most people think it is.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong, Kim Jungwoo/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Powers That Be [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730035
Comments: 37
Kudos: 251





	You Found Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! Back with the fifth installment of this series.  
> I feel like a broken record, but you don't need to read the others to understand. It just might be nice to get some backstory on the world, especially because this collides with the first story in the series (I Want You More Than I Want Superpowers). 
> 
> This does have some past childhood trauma and abuse, so please proceed with caution!  
> Other than that it's pretty fluffy and awkward. Very awkward. These boys are just...awkward haha 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!!

Taeyong doesn’t understand why, but sometimes when people talk, their mouths don’t move.

It’s an odd kind of thing, Taeyong thinks as he watches his mom rush around the kitchen, the sound of her voice ringing in his mind, though her lips refuse to form the words. It happens a lot lately. With his mom, his dad—when he’s around—with the kids in class and the people on the street. Sometimes, just sometimes, when they go shopping it hurts how much people are screaming, but the sound never leaves their mouths. It just echoes around loud and true inside his mind.

His little hand clutches at his pencil and frowns. His mom keeps listing the same things over and over again— _milk, cheese, Taeyong’s dentist appointment, lunch, wrangle Hwanjoon’s neck when he finally gets inside this damn house, milk, cheese_ —and it’s starting to hurt. It’s a dull pain in the back of his head, wrapping forward toward his eyes.

He blinks hard. She’s been so focused that she can’t seem to understand that Taeyong is very hungry right now and has been trying to tell her for the last half-hour. No matter how hard he tries, she doesn’t seem to hear him. He can’t seem to do what everyone else can. Every time he tries to talk without using his mouth it never quite works. It’s disheartening.

_Milk, cheese, Taeyong’s dentist appointment, lunch—_

“Mama,” he says, finally giving up. She turns around, a little dazed. “I’m hungry.”

She glances at the clock and sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me? We have to leave for your appointment soon. Can you hang in there for another hour?”

“I tried,” he insists.

Furrowing her brow, she says, “Honey, you never said anything.”

“Yes, I did! I was trying.” Pouting, he crosses his arms and whines, “You just didn’t hear me.”

“Don’t whine, Taeyong. You’re not a baby. And you told me nothing. No words came out of your mouth.”

“They don’t have to. I can hear you speak and your mouth never moves.”

His mom, who had been busy grabbing her keys and the list of groceries off the island, stills. Slowly, her eyes lift to stare at him. “What do you mean, baby?”

“Everyone can do it…” his voice trails off as he watches his mother round the island to stand across the table from him with narrowed eyes and tilted head. “They—Their voices come out. I can hear them.”

“Hear them?”

He nods. “In my head. Can’t you?”

“No, honey. I can’t. I’m going to…call your father.”

Taeyong goes to get out of his chair because he can hear her voice, but her lips aren’t moving again and it’s so fast and so muddled that he can’t keep up with the words. The tone sounds worried?

_No—can’t be—not old enough—how—when—can’t be—not my boy—_

But his mother throws up her hands and says, “No, stay. I’ll be back. Just stay, Taeyong.”

His body falls back into the chair and he watches her leave the room. Even from the other room, with the door closed, he can hear her clearly and not just in his head. Her voice drifts through the thin walls of the small house and with every word, Taeyong shrinks into the chair, lower lip trembling and eyes sore.

“—he’s five, Hwanjoon! You don’t seriously think he—” _I don’t want a freak for a son._ “Of course, I know it’s possible, but at five? With that kind of power—” _He’ll know everything._ “When am I going to take him to the doctors today?” _Impossible_. “Do you know that I have things to do and places to go and I can’t lug a five-year-old with me everywhere—” _It’s a mistake._ “Don’t put this on me! If you were here—”

_I won’t be able to hide from him._

Taeyong doesn’t understand half of it, but he does know this: it sounds desperate, sad, angry, and confused. It makes his head hurt and his heart ache. It doesn’t sound good.

He didn’t mean to be bad. He didn’t mean to do it.

He didn’t know.

He knows nothing.

*

The alarm snaps him out of his dream and Taeyong shoots up in his bed, blankets twisted around his waist and legs. Light from the morning sun filters into his room, making him squint. He squints even more when the thoughts of the apartment occupants flood into his mind like water smashing through a dam. It crashes down on him so hard and he buries his head in his arms. Taking in deep intakes of air, he tries to chase away the automatic headache that appears.

_Need to take the dog for a walk._

_Screw it. My professor can deal with pajamas today._

_I’m going to fail my exam._

_Fucking hell, he didn’t do the dishes again?_

_She’s cheating. I know it._

_It’s not bad to feed a cat raw steak, is it?_

_I hate my life. Hate it. Hate my fucking life._

Taeyong leans back on his hands, rolling his head side to side. He kind of commiserates with the last person. Sometimes he hates his life, too. Usually because of moments like this. He rolls out of bed and heads straight to the bathroom to get ready. The sounds of everyone’s thoughts turn into a dull thrum as he slowly gets used to the sounds.

After so many years, he’s learned how to put their volume on low. They’re still there, muttering beneath a thin block he’s managed to create, mainly from focusing on the people closest to him, even if the thoughts nearest aren’t exactly the ones he wants to hear.

It’s too early to listen to Doyoung’s moaning about his upcoming vocal midterm or Johnny’s fantasies about the blonde on the first level. Unfortunately, there aren’t a lot of options and it’s not like Taeyong gets a choice. He’ll always have to listen to someone, to everyone. It becomes difficult to distinguish who’s who sometimes, and half the time he can’t even figure out his own thoughts.

Still, it’s a challenge that he’s forever going to have to learn to live with. It’s not something he can turn off, so he’ll just have to deal with it. Even if it sucks.

His red hair is still dripping when he makes it to the kitchen. Johnny’s already at the dining table with his camera equipment taking up most of the surface. He has a granola bar sticking out between his lips as he eyes one of his work sheets. In all honesty, Johnny should be graduating this year, he has all the credits for his film major. But Taeyong doesn’t think that will happen. There’s been a lot of things on Johnny’s mind and one of those things is going back to complete a photography minor. Taeyong would bet money that Johnny will do it.

“I can make you real food,” Taeyong says as he moves around the tripod that’s leaning up against the table.

Johnny reaches out to hold it just in case it slips before picking it up completely and laying it on the chair. “It’s fine. I’m supposed to meet the crew in twenty minutes, so I really should get going.” He glances up from his paper to watch Taeyong gather up what he needs to make an omelet. “You okay? You look half dead.”

Grimacing, Taeyong grabs the eggs from the fridge and says, “Why, thank you, Johnny. I was going for full-dead, but I suppose half will have to do.”

Johnny makes a face, one that scrunches up his nose and makes his thoughts flutter a bit. “I just mean that you look like you need to sleep more. Because, you know, I care about you and you need to be healthy.”

“You’re just saying that because I feed you,” Taeyong counters.

“Wh—hey! I care,” he argues. Taeyong raises a brow. Glancing at his buzzing phone, Johnny adds, “I do. I just can’t care right now. Can I care tonight? Shit, I have to go.” He collects all his things, slugging them over his shoulders and tucking them under his arms as if they don’t weight dozens of pounds—damn Johnny and his inhuman strength—and says, “Love you, little brother.”

Taeyong spins as Johnny rushes towards the door and throws it open. “Wait! Are you home for dinner?”

“Yes,” comes the quick reply. “If you make pizza, leave off the strawberries.”

Watching as Johnny struggles to fit through the doorframe, Taeyong says, “I don’t know why you don’t like them. It’s a delicacy.”

“To who? You know what? Don’t answer that. Have to go! Bye!”

The door slams and the apartment falls silent. Exhaling deeply, Taeyong goes back to his breakfast. He can hear the whirling thoughts of Doyoung in the room down the hall as he goes over his music theory. At this point, Taeyong could recite all the scales and probably sing Doyoung’s midterm song with no issues.

He supposes, the one good thing about his powers is that he learns some of the oddest facts. Some he wishes he never knew, but still. 

Doyoung comes out of his room in a flurry of anxiety just as Taeyong’s cleaning up his plate. When he glances over, Doyoung says, “Say nothing. I know. I’m sorry. I’m going to the library.”

“It’s honestly okay—”

“Shut up,” he mutters as he opens the fridge and pulls out one of the containers with leftovers Taeyong made a day ago. “I know I’m annoying you.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “You aren’t annoying me. Just—”

“Breathe. I know. Still going to the library, though.” He shoves the container into his backpack and turns to put his shoes on. “By the way, did you hear about the new neighbor?”

“No. Who is it?”

It’s not like Taeyong’s into knowing who else is living in the building. He always learns about them eventually through, well, thoughts. Doyoung, however, keeps tabs. Especially with the apartments right next door. Mostly because the walls are thin and Doyoung hates loud neighbors. He makes a habit of learning who they are just in case he needs to go over. Which he’s done before. Several embarrassing times.

“No idea,” Doyoung replies. “Some guy who just moved back from America. He’s replacing Taeil’s old roommate. I just hope he’s quiet.”

Breathing out a laugh, Taeyong places the washed plate on the drying rack. “Guess we’ll find out. Good luck on your midterm. Will you be home for dinner?”

“Probably not, so I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Got’cha.”

Doyoung disappears and Taeyong is left in the now very empty apartment. He can hear the old lady above him wondering where her cat is and the man across the hall trying to figure out how to ask his girlfriend for a threesome. Rubbing his temples, Taeyong heads to his room to pull out his headphones. He’s discovered, over the years, that sometimes he can drown out the thoughts with music. Of course, Johnny’s and Doyoung’s, and all the other people Taeyong is close with will still leak through, but he’d rather hear them than strangers in the building or on the street.

With the way his schedule is, Taeyong’s got the day off. And with his roommates gone, he’s given the unique moment of time to actually clean without bumping into anyone. So, that’s what he does. He focuses his efforts on the living room, the bathroom, and the kitchen—mostly because he’s going to be cooking tonight and he’s a bit of a perfectionist about that certain room.

Dropping onto the couch, he eyes the bag of garbage by the door. Sometimes he wishes he could make things disappear. That would be a nice power. He tosses himself back so he’s laying along the cushions and can stare at the ceiling. Music blasts in his ears, cutting out the random thoughts and leaving him with faint tracings of his friends.

Johnny’s busy with his film crew. Doyoung’s made it to the library. Somewhere in his room, Taeil is going over a court case for his internship. Kun is somewhere on campus. He doesn’t even want to connect with Jungwoo and Lucas right now because, _god_ , they can never not think of each other and there’s definitely some things better kept secret.

The one he’s worried about, however, is Mark. Mark has always been a quiet thinking, but that doesn’t mean Taeyong has any trouble hearing him. In fact, besides Johnny, Mark is probably the one Taeyong can hear from the farthest away. Most of the time, there’s nothing to worry about. However, lately, Taeyong’s been keeping close tabs.

Mark isn’t one to come to Taeyong for help unless he’s desperate. He likes to mull things over and figure them out for himself. Except, right now, he needs people and he’s been cutting everyone off, especially the one person he probably needs the most.

Taeyong isn’t going to message him any time soon because he knows what Mark’s like and he knows that he needs to step back and let Mark breathe and learn on his own. Doesn’t mean he’s not tempted. God, he’s so tempted. His phone is in his pocket and he can hear Mark’s thoughts swirling over and over with one particular thing jumping out every few seconds.

 _Donghyuck_.

Pursing his lips, Taeyong sits up and links his fingers together. They’ve been chasing each other since they were kids and nothing’s ever been locked in place. They’re either comfortable or they’re avoiding each other, simply because neither one wants to say what they’re actually feeling. It’s a headache in and of itself.

But Taeyong has a rule: Never meddle.

He’s learned that the hard way. People don’t do well hearing their own thoughts aloud, or knowing someone else’s. It’s a dangerous game. One Taeyong’s been burned by and will never go through again. Sometimes, it’s so hard, though. He wants to solve it all because he can. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way in life.

No, Mark will have to figure it out on his own or talk to his friends. He can come to Taeyong, too. Mark knows that, but he has to learn to rely on other people.

Taeyong puffs out his cheeks, fingers twitching to grab his phone. He doesn’t. Instead, he stands up and heads toward the garbage bag. “Just text him, Mark,” he whines, quietly. “You aren’t part of a soap opera.”

Occasionally, it feels like it, though.

Slipping on his shoes, Taeyong heads out into the hall, bag in hand. The shoot is a floor down, so he locks the door behind him. Just as he wiggles the key out of the door, he hears something fall. Or, well, several things fall. He glances down the hall to find a guy leaning down to pick up a box that seems to have snapped at the bottom, spilling all the items that were inside all over the floor. An orange basketball rolls Taeyong’s way and nudges to a stop against his shoe.

Taking out his earbud, he instantly hears the guy’s voice. And his thoughts.

“Shit, just great,” he mutters.

_Fucking hate moving. Never gets easier. If the brat had shown up, I’d be done by now. But nooooooo, he’s off doing god knows what and leaving me all on my own. He’s lucky I love him. Fucking hell, where did—_

The thoughts freeze when the guy turns and spots Taeyong. A mask covers the lower half of his face, brown hair messed up from the wind. His dark eyes follow Taeyong as he bends to pick up the basketball. Leaving the garbage bag outside his door, Taeyong walks the length of the hall and holds out the ball.

“This is yours, right?” Taeyong asks.

The guy stands. Hooking a finger on the top of his mask, he pulls it down so it sits under his chin and, _no_ , Taeyong’s breath didn’t hitch. It just almost did because, while Taeyong’s surrounded by a lot of good-looking people—purely coincidence, he thinks—this guy takes the cake in the way Taeyong’s just not used to.

Broad shoulders, clear skin, and his face, well, yeah, that’s something to look at all right. Taeyong takes in the sharp jaw and high cheekbones. His breath may have nearly hitched again when the guy smiles, crinkling his eyes just slightly at the corners and revealing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth. And, oh shit, he has dimples. Good _god_ , who is this person and how are they real?

Taeyong wonders if this guy ever went through an awkward phase.

“Yeah, thanks.” His voice is deeper than Taeyong thinks it’ll be, and definitely smoother.

Clearing his throat, Taeyong steps back and nods. “No problem.” He can feel his cheeks heating, knowing full well that he’s been staring quite openly.

 _Cute_.

Taeyong blinks. That was definitely not his thought. Stunned, he watches as the guy in front of him checks him out, eyes flitting up and down before landing on Taeyong’s face. His smile turns crooked and it’s dipped in smugness.

_Huh, a hot neighbor. Could get used to that._

Taeyong nearly chokes on air. It’s not like he’s a stranger to hearing people’s opinions on him. He’s heard enough on the streets or at school to last a life time. Men and women alike like to comment on his appearance. His hair mostly since he’s often dying it odd colors, but, once they get past that, they focus on his face, his body. To be honest, after hearing things like that, he’s become more insecure about his appearance than anything else.

So, yeah, hearing someone focus in on his looks like that isn’t a strange occurrence, but that doesn’t make it any less awkward. Especially when the person checking him out is, well, gorgeous.

“Sorry,” the guy says as he drops the ball into the box at his side. He straightens, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I can tell this is awkward for you. Wait—No, that came out—Geez, I need to—I’m so out of practice with meeting new people. I’m sorry. Hi, I’m Jaehyun.” He holds out a hand for Taeyong to shake. The smile on his lips turns sheepish, yet not any less attractive. Taeyong finds the fumbling a little endearing. “Empath.”

Taeyong, hand in Jaehyun’s, pauses. “Pardon?”

“I’m an empath.”

Retracting his hand slowly, Taeyong studies the newcomer again in a completely different light. Taeyong doesn’t know many empaths. In fact, the only person he knows that has any kind of power like that is a healer in his main ability and the empathy only comes while he’s using his power. This guy, however, is definitely not like that.

_Never gets any easier. Probably scared the guy off now. Nice going, idiot. He’s going to ignore you for the rest of your life._

“Ah, don’t worry,” Jaehyun says with a wave of his hand. “I just like to let people know right away, you know? Rip off the Band-Aid. Otherwise, it gets weird. Or, well, weirder.” His laugh is light as he bends down to grab the very broken box full of odds and ends. “I didn’t catch your name?”

_Please, don’t be one of those people._

It’s kind of heartbreaking, really, because Taeyong’s been there. Every time he has to tell someone about his power. It’s a waiting game. A nerve-wracking experience that leaves one feeling slow and painful and all-around impossible to deal with. No one likes to know that the person sitting across from them can read their mind. He’s had more than one experience of that particular truthfulness ruining a budding relationship.

It never gets any easier. And even if he knows their thoughts, he can’t truly know how they’ll react. People’s minds can switch any which way at the snap of their fingers.

So, yeah, he gets Jaehyun’s hesitation, his worry. Taeyong still feels that with the people he hangs out with, who know about his ability. Maybe, they’ll discover it’s too much of a hassle and leave. Taeyong wouldn’t blame them.

“Taeyong,” he replies, softly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Jaehyun says the same time his mind whispers a _thank god_.

Now would be the perfect time to tell Jaehyun he can read minds, he notes. Jaehyun had opened up so fast that, perhaps, Taeyong owes him. It’s not something he normally does this fast. Mostly because—again—no one likes a mind reader. He tends to wait to see if someone is going to be sticking around before he attempts to tell someone. It was harder in school because of gossip traveled at light speed. College has definitely made it easier to keep quiet and be selective.

So, while it’s not something he’d typically mention, Jaehyun’s created that bridge and it’s not every day he meets someone that goes through similar experiences, so Taeyong thinks that maybe he should mention something. Except, before the words can leave his mouth, Jaehyun’s talking again.

“Hey, sorry, but do you mind if I drop this off at my apartment?” Jaehyun asks, wiggling the box. The basketball makes a daring leap and Taeyong catches it. “Thanks. Um, do you mind bringing that?”

Wordlessly, Taeyong trails after Jaehyun, passed his own apartment, to the one right next door. Oh, so he’s the new neighbor Doyoung was talking about. The door is already propped open and Jaehyun simply nudges it with his foot to slip over the threshold.

“You can just leave it on the table,” Jaehyun tells Taeyong as he disappears down the hall.

Taeyong does what he’s told and places the basketball on the dining table. He’s only been in Taeil’s apartment a few times and it’s not that much different from his own. Only, it’s a two bedroom instead of a three. The kitchen has the same cream cabinets and the floors a light hardwood. There are boxes piled in the middle of the living room between two love seats Taeil brought with him when he first moved in.

When Jaehyun comes back, the box is gone. He smiles at Taeyong and beckons him to follow. “Do you think you could help me bring up the rest of my stuff? If it’s not too much of a trouble, that is. I only have a few boxes left. My cousin was supposed to help me, but he called this morning to tell me he couldn’t be here, the bugger. Honestly, I leave for three months and he only visits me once.”

Despite his words, Taeyong can tell Jaehyun’s rather fond of his cousin. His thoughts think back to a small, smiley boy in short flashes and Taeyong can’t help but think it’s adorable. And that the cousin seems familiar somehow.

Taeyong steps into the hallway and glances at the garbage bag outside his door. “Yeah, I could do that. But I need to stop on the second floor to drop that off.”

“No worries,” Jaehyun tells him as they head towards the stairs. Taeyong picks up the bag in passing. “Thanks for the help, by the way. I don’t usually just grab strangers to help me, but I’ve taken so many trips that I’m ready for this moving process to be over.”

_So. Fucking. Tired._

Taeyong’s lips twitch. “It’s fine. I’m not doing much anyway, so why not help a new neighbor?”

“Much appreciated.”

The smile that crosses Jaehyun’s lips is just as stunning as he is and Taeyong wonders if he’s ever modelled. His looks could fit perfectly in front of a screen. Picture perfect, Taeyong decides. That’s what Jaehyun is. It’s kind of alarming. In a not-sure-I-should-go-near-him sort of way.

Taeyong likes to think he doesn’t judge people based on their looks. Even the prettiest person can be horrible. And it’s not like he really needs to since he can base people off their thoughts, in the end, anyway. Even still, he sees Jaehyun and his lack of physical flaws, and his thoughts haven’t been anything out of the ordinary, and Taeyong is a little bit charmed and a lot wary.

No one is that perfect. There has to be something wrong with him. Somehow.

Jaehyun props the door to the stairs open and Taeyong slips under his arm and heads down.

_Nice ass—Jaehyun, good god, cut it out, you pervert._

Taeyong’s foot misses a step and he stumbles just slightly, hand snatching for the railing. Jaehyun’s hands grab his other arm to steady him.

“Are you okay?”

Nodding, Taeyong gingerly shakes off Jaehyun’s hands in the nicest way he can, shoots him a small, hesitant smile, and continues to the second floor. The staircase is full of echo. Their footsteps, even the crinkling of the bag, is so loud. Taeyong wonders if his beating heart from both Jaehyun’s thoughts and his near-death experience is just as thunderous because, honestly, he’s trying so hard to focus on the other voices within the building so he doesn’t have to pay attention to it.

He throws open the door and heads to the small room that houses the garbage shoots. Jaehyun doesn’t follow him, thank god. He shoves the bag haphazardly through the slot and steps back to breathe.

It’s like the people at the club, he tells himself. Random indecent thoughts, nothing will really come of it, and Taeyong will never see him again. Except, maybe in passing, but even then, that’s not so bad. Taeyong can handle that. He’s handled worse.

Johnny likes to say that Taeyong draws in the odd ones. The ones that don’t want to let him go and are so insistent that someone has to step in because Taeyong doesn’t deal well with confrontation and hurting people’s feelings even if it needs to be done.

Taeyong likes to be nice. Maybe too nice, sometimes. But if that’s his biggest flaw, he’ll take it.

When he steps back into the hall, Jaehyun’s leaning against the opposite wall with his phone in his hands. At the sound of the door, he glances up and smiles, pocketing his phone. He wonders if Jaehyun can feel the whirlwind going on inside him. Probably. Taeyong can definitely read Jaehyun’s thoughts. They flutter between Taeyong and messaging Taeil and checking on his cousin.

People, Taeyong’s discovered, don’t think linearly a lot of the time. Often, thoughts are disconnected, jumpy, and all over the place unless someone is focusing. Jaehyun is no different. Although, he seems to really like Taeyong’s hair. That thought seems to come up a lot and it make him run his fingers through it, a little uneasy.

“I hope it doesn’t feel like I’m forcing you to help me,” Jaehyun says as they head out into the parking lot. The sun is high and bright. The heat curls off the metal tops of the cars. “If it quells your nervousness, I’m not a serial killer or a creep.”

“I know,” Taeyong says before he can stop himself.

Jaehyun’s brow raises. “Oh, really?”

Stuttering, he adds, “Uh—uh, yeah. I just mean you don’t seem like one? And Taeil has a good judge of character. How did you meet him again?”

Jaehyun pops open the trunk of his red SUV. Three more boxes sat inside. As he reaches for them, dragging each box closer, he says, “I met him during orientation last year and we became friends. I was living at home until I went on an exchange to America, and when I came back my parents were practically glued to my hip, so I decided it was time to move out.”

Flashes of a middle-aged woman squishing cheeks and ranting about eating well appears in Taeyong’s mind and he can’t help but feel a bit melancholy about it. Clearly, Jaehyun loves his parents and they love him just as much.

“Needed to get away?” Taeyong inquires

Jaehyun sighs. “God, _yes_ , they can be suffocating. Love them to pieces, though. What about you?” He must have sensed Taeyong’s hesitance, the way his mood dips, because his brow furrows, eyes searching. “Ah.”

Plastering on a smile, Taeyong asks, “Are you prying into my emotions?”

“Can’t help it, sorry. I know it can get annoying.” Jaehyun passes him a box. “Not really something I can turn off, you know?”

Taeyong feels that a little too deeply. The items inside the box clink together as he wiggles it in his arms to get a better grip. “It’s fine. Really. It was nice of Taeil to let you move in with him.”

Fortunately, Jaehyun takes the change in topic and lifts the last two remaining boxes. With a press of a button, the trunk closes and latches. The two of them work their way back into the building.

“It was just perfect timing, honestly,” Jaehyun admits. “His roommate was moving out and I needed a place. Taeil’s just probably glad to get someone who’s quiet and won’t bug him. And I get a roommate that can keep the place clean. Win-win, right?”

Taeyong nods. He also stores away the information of Jaehyun being quiet because, yeah, Doyoung will be very happy about that.

“What’s your major?” Jaehyun asks. “I’m just assuming you’re a student.”

“I am. For culinary arts.”

Jaehyun grins at that. He kicks the door to his apartment open. “Wicked. My skills in cooking is minimal at best. I make a mean lasagna, though.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Taeyong laughs as he follows Jaehyun down the hall to his room. There’s nothing spectacular about it. A double bed with no sheets, thin closet, and an even thinner window with blinds that are slightly bent at the bottom. Several boxes sit at the base of the cheap wooden desk, which is where Taeyong adds his. As he does so, he catches sight of a varsity jacket, the blue and red colors of his school standing out among the neutral room. “You’re on the varsity team?”

“Yeah, basketball,” Jaehyun answers, dropping onto the bed. The mattress squeaks beneath him.

“That’s cool. One of my friends is really good at basketball. I’ve been trying to convince him to join varsity if he can. I’m not winning the battle, currently.”

“He’s good then?”

Taeyong nods and perches himself at the end of Jaehyun’s desk. “Very. He just doesn’t want to do it professionally. It’s more of a hobby for him, I think.”

“I’m the same. I don’t plan on going pro, but it’s something for now.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

Jaehyun points at the box at Taeyong’s feet and he bends down to pop it open. Inside are several sketching materials: pens, pencils, rulers galore, and several sketchbooks. Carefully, he takes one out and, with an affirming nod from Jaehyun, he flips it open to the middle.

The sketches vary between graphite, to pastel, to pen. The lines are sure and strong, building up to create some of the best images Taeyong’s ever seen. They’re places. Buildings, actually. Western, Victorian, contemporary modern. From homes to corporation buildings, Jaehyun has it all. Each page is something just slightly different, though one stands out among the rest. It’s a small, modest colonial home and Taeyong wonders if that’s Jaehyun’s home.

He looks up and Jaehyun is studying him, lips drawn into a tight line. His fingers twist in his lap. While he may have been ready to show the pictures, he seems nervous now and Taeyong hesitantly stretches out to reach into Jaehyun’s mind.

_Why did I show them? Stupid, Jaehyun. Those aren’t even good and he knows it and I’m—I shouldn’t have shown them. It’s too late to take it back and—_

“They’re good,” Taeyong says, firmly. He looks back down at the sketch book. “Really good. You’re an artist, then?”

Jaehyun, seemingly a little stunned by the compliment, nods. “Yeah. Well, kind of. I’m studying architecture. That’s why I was in America. I was doing an internship at a company. They’re not the best, I know, and they’re older works with so much wrong with them and—”

“No, they’re good, Jaehyun. You should be proud.” He closes the book and sets it on the desk. “I’m sure you hear that all the time.”

Shaking his head, he says, “Not really. I don’t tend to show people, unless they’re, like, my classmates or something.”

“And you wanted to show me?”

“I’m trying to prove I’m not a creep. Is it working?”

Taeyong purses his lips and shrugs. “For all I know you get off on bricks and mortar.”

“I’m more of a siding kind of guy.”

The snort that comes out of him isn’t attractive in the slightest, but Jaehyun grins as if he just won the lottery and the thought of _God, he’s cute_ flashes in his mind so fast that Taeyong almost misses it. He chokes on air, cheeks heating.

“Anyway, I should get going,” Taeyong mutters because he doesn’t trust his voice at full volume right now. Jaehyun’s thoughts and his unashamed smiles are doing all kind of things to him. He’s not quite prepared.

“I’ll walk you to the door. Thank you for helping me, by the way. I’m glad I ran into you.”

Reaching for the doorknob, Taeyong says, “It wasn’t a problem. I hope things go well with Taeil and stuff. So, um, yeah. Bye.”

Taeyong the Ever Awkward with New People. Sounds like the perfect title for him. He nearly groans when he hears Jaehyun thinking about the waves of uneasiness rolling off him. Poor Jaehyun believes it’s all his fault. Taeyong, however, knows he’s just like this with every new person that comes into his life. With his friends, he can do whatever, say whatever, but strangers—while he can keep a tab on their thoughts—are still just that: strangers.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” Jaehyun asks. _Please let me have a little hope._

His mouth pops open when the thought enters his mind. It’s not demanding. It’s not even so much of a plea. It’s just a wishful thought with a soft tone, like he’s resigned to the idea that it might not happen, but he’s trying anyway. Taeyong honestly doesn’t know why. It’s not like he’s done anything to prove himself or show himself worthy of Jaehyun’s attention. All he did was carry a few boxes and be friendly.

“I mean,” he swallows over the lump in his throat and steps backward into the hallway, “I live next door, so I’m sure we’ll run into each other.”

Jaehyun smiles, showing off his perfect teeth again, and leans against the doorframe. “Of course.”

“And, um, I’m friends with Taeil, so there’s that.”

“There’s definitely that.”

It’s extremely hard not to pay attention to the way Jaehyun crosses his arms over his chest, smile turning just a little smug, as if he knows he’s making Taeyong’s brain fizzle. He really should leave. Save himself.

He eyes Jaehyun, noticing his attention hasn’t left Taeyong the entire time. He frowns. “You’re reading me.”

“You make it kind of easy to,” Jaehyun admits. “Like I said, I can’t stop reading someone. But your emotions are— _wow_ —you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Taeyong grumbles, casting a gaze to his front door. He should go.

Jaehyun shrugs. “It’s not a bad thing. Just means you’re a sensitive person.”

“And what, may I ask, am I feeling?” After all these years, Taeyong knows not to challenge people like this. Johnny does this all the time with him and it never ends in anything but either anger or embarrassment. Taeyong’s not sure he should open that can of worms.

Straightening, Jaehyun hums. “You really want to know?”

Does he? Is it worth it? In a way, he does want to know. He wants to know just how deep Jaehyun can read him, what he’s giving off to someone like an empath. Is this what his friends feel like all the time?

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, then.” Jaehyun’s eyes scan Taeyong from his face to the floor and then up again. It makes Taeyong shift. “Nervousness. I can’t fully tell if it’s because of me specifically or if you’re just nervous around strangers—Oh, wait, there was a bit of guilt in there. Interesting. Maybe it’s just me then? And I can feel anticipation. It’s buried beneath all the wariness, but it’s there. Add in the inkling of sexual attraction and I think I’ve got the five main emotions pegged. And _there’s_ the embarrassment. Make that six.”

Taeyong knows his cheeks are red because his face is flaming. Still, he stands his ground and gawks. “Sexual attraction? That’s not even an emotion.”

“Trust me.” Jaehyun smirks. “It’s very much an emotion. Tingling sensations and all. It’s the flutters, the frazzled unknown, the pull of the nerves, even a bit of heightened guilt of feeling that way towards someone you barely know.”

Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, Taeyong states, “You say that like you know it a little too well.”

“Well, when you’re an empath, you feel a lot of things a lot of times. You kind of get the knack of it.”

“And I think you’re a bit faulty.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m on the same level as you right now.”

If Taeyong could go any redder, he would, especially with the sudden bombardment of images of himself from the last twenty minutes flashing behind his eyes. They focus on specific parts of himself that he’s never particularly noticed, but Jaehyun sure had and apparently liked.

It makes him a bit woozy, so he steps back and points towards his apartment. “I’m going to go now. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Taeyong. Been a pleasure.”

Taeyong would like to disagree. Except, his body seems to be on fire and there’s something about the way Jaehyun watches him head back to his apartment that makes his nerves spike in all kinds of wonderous ways. Jaehyun can feel it. Taeyong knows he can because the bastard is trying to school his smile, coughing a laugh when Taeyong can’t seem to get the door open the first time.

When it finally pops open, Taeyong glances down the hall. Jaehyun waves and Taeyong ducks inside. Leaning back against the closed door, he grips at his hair and sighs. Flirty guys are one thing. Taeyong’s dealt with that. Flirty guys that can figure out Taeyong might be interested on a superficial level while living next door is a completely different thing.

“Fucking hell, Taeyong,” he curses. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

*

“So, he’s hot?” Johnny asks, shoveling a spoon of macaroni in his mouth.

Doyoung makes a face. “That’s not important. He’s quiet?”

“And that’s important?”

Sighing, Taeyong says, “Johnny, don’t talk with your mouth full. No one wants to see how your teeth work. And, yes, he’s quiet. He said he was, anyway.”

“And he’s hot.” Johnny points at Taeyong with a quirked brow. “Let’s not forget that.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “I never said he was hot.”

“You didn’t need to. I asked if he was hot and you turned into a tomato. I may not read minds, but I can certainly read you, Tae. You think he’s hot.”

“He’s,” Taeyong searches for the right word, “model-esque.”

“Hot, then.”

Fork clinking against his plate, Taeyong groans. “Fine, yes, he’s hot. Can we move on? That’s really not what’s important. The important part is that he’s an empath.”

“And empath that read you and now you don’t know what to do about it because you’re not used to being on the other end.” Doyoung reaches for another piece of garlic bread. “Makes it awkward when someone can read you and you can’t control it, doesn’t it?”

Taeyong stares at his food. He had been hungry, but his appetite is slowly disappearing. Doyoung’s right. That’s exactly what it is. Taeyong’s not used to being on the other end and he’s still not sure what to make of the whole thing.

He had spent the rest of the day roaming the apartment, pacing and replaying the event over and over. He should have just given the basketball over and left. That would have been the smartest plan. Johnny had come home with Taeyong sprawled on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, dinner completely on hold. By the time Doyoung had come back a couple hours later, Taeyong was just pulling the food out of the oven.

Taeyong had told them about the encounter—save for the ‘sexual tension’ part because Taeyong isn’t stupid enough to give his friends that kind of ammo—and that’s led them here. At their dining table.

The whole table jolts when Johnny kicks Doyoung and Taeyong reaches out to steady his glass before it spills. Doyoung yelps, shooting Johnny a glare that could freeze someone where they stand. A moment passes between them. Doyoung sighs.

“Sorry, that was kind of insensitive,” Doyoung mutters.

Taeyong shakes his head. “No, you’re right. Urgh, he could read every emotion and I just didn’t know what to do. I was so lost.”

“What did he do when he found out you’re a telepath?” Johnny inquires and Taeyong tenses. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“I was going to tell him,” he insists. “I tried, but then we got talking and I lost the opening. Besides, you know I like to wait a bit before I let that kind of thing into the open.”

“He’s going to find out, eventually,” says Doyoung. “I mean, he lives right next door with Taeil. You don’t think he’s going to find out that you can read all the inappropriate thoughts he had about you?”

“Or will have,” Johnny puts in.

Taeyong’s jaw drops. “I said nothing about inappropriate thoughts!”

“Everyone has inappropriate thoughts about you at least once. There’s no way this guy didn’t.”

“Not everyone,” he pouts.

Johnny snorts. “Yeah, everyone. You mesmerize people better than Doyoung does.”

“Rude.”

“True.”

Sipping on his water—because, _god_ , his throat is so dry right now—Taeyong mutters into the glass, “He could be straight for all you know.”

“You haven’t outwardly said he didn’t think those things, so I’m going to assume he did,” Johnny says. “Probably checked out your ass.”

Taeyong chokes on his water.

“Oh, he totally did. The hot neighbor is thirsting after you and you’re here with us? You could be next door getting the banging of your life.”

Doyoung groans. “Johnny, really? Over macaroni? You’re ruining dinner.”

“Life is full of disappointments. Get used to it.”

Words have completely left Taeyong. He has no idea how to respond to Johnny and, while that’s not an abnormal thing, he’s annoying. Especially because Johnny shoots him a smirk as if he knows what kind of images he’s put into Taeyong’s head. Ones he’s so desperately trying to ignore. Fuck, he’s only known Jaehyun for at least thirty minutes and he refuses to be the kind of person to thirst after a stranger strictly because of their appearance.

He won’t.

“Just think about it,” Johnny tells him as he leans back in the chair. “He reads your emotions and you know it, so why not read his mind and he’ll know it? Seems like a fair trade.”

“I feel like reading someone’s thoughts are a little more invasive.”

Doyoung furrows his brow. “Not really. I mean, when you read our minds you can guess at what we’re feeling.”

“‘Guess’, yes. But actually know? On top of that, you can’t control what you think, but you can control what you feel,” Taeyong says. “If you have practice, anyway.”

“I think you should just tell him the next time you see him. He’s probably going to be around a bit if he’s with Taeil and living next door. Do you want him to find out through someone else?”

Taeyong sinks into his chair. “No.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s just not that easy. People are weird and, even if they were somehow okay with powers like mine, a lot of the time they find out and bolt in the other direction. Which is why I try to feel a person out first. I’m not going to just announce my ability to everyone. Can you imagine how chaotic that would be? You remember what it was like in high school.”

Both Doyoung’s and Johnny’s expression soften. They definitely remember. How could they not? They spent way too much time trying to keep people from attacking Taeyong, following him, begging him to tell them people’s secrets and answers to tests. Taeyong had never wanted to go to public school, but his uncle had been insistent. If Taeyong’s life wasn’t going to be normal in a lot of ways, his uncle wanted him to have one thing that was. School, apparently, was that one thing.

“Fine,” Doyoung says. “Don’t tell him yet, but, if he’s sticking around for the long term, you’ll need to own up.”

“He’ll only be a little bit embarrassed,” Johnny jokes, sending Taeyong a wink from across the table.

Taeyong sighs. He knows, in a way, his friends are right, but he still likes to stick to the best way he knows. There have been too many times Taeyong’s made the mistake of telling someone about his telepathy too fast or at the wrong time. He’s not planning on doing it again.

*

Taeyong drops the pan in the middle of the table with a gruff, “Another fail.”

There’s two hours until his class, which means he has just enough time to try and make another batch. The only problem is, he’s run out of room in the kitchen. He’s been up since six, scurrying about, trying to come up with the perfect confection piece for his next big project in a few weeks and still can’t get any of it right.

Burnt, too sweet, too salty, not enough salt, underdone. Taeyong’s done it all and it’s not even that what he wants to do is difficult. It’s just that he can’t focus. He’s not sure what’s going on with everyone in the building, but for the last several days it’s been chaos in his head. Even music won’t drown it out. So, he’s left with a raging headache and multiple failed attempts.

Luckily for him, Johnny doesn’t care all that much. He’s happily working away on one of those failed attempts while he edits his movie.

“You’re lucky I go to the gym. Otherwise, this would be extremely unhealthy,” Johnny says as he bites into a cupcake Taeyong’s deemed too overdone. “Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been at it all morning.”

Dumping the dirty bowls into the sink and turning on the water, he says, “I need to have some kind of plan by today’s class. Nothing is working. I’m going to fail.”

“You won’t fail. You’re just a little disoriented. Sit down.”

He scrubs at the bowls, wishing they’d just disappear and take him with them because, honestly, this is so frustrating. He can’t do anything right today. In the past four hours, he’s managed to preheat the oven wrong, forgot to set the timer twice, put in the wrong ingredients, left out the right ingredients, and has screwed up five batches of confections he should know like the back of his hand by now.

“Taeyong,” Johnny calls.

“What?”

“Sit down.”

Flicking off the water, he turns to look at Johnny. He’s slid his glasses to rest on top of his head. With his eyebrow raised and the tight line of his lips, he seems very much unimpressed.

_You’re doing it again. You need to stop and think. Breathe._

With the last word, Johnny smirks. He knows Taeyong doesn’t like hearing his own advice. Nevertheless, he takes a spot across from Johnny and openly sulks. He doesn’t care if he’s acting like a child. He wants to pout. He also wants to kick something, but he’s not going to do that. Not yet, anyway.

Johnny puts his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his fists. “Now, tell Uncle Johnny what’s wrong?”

“That’s extremely disturbing,” Taeyong states. Johnny shrugs. “I’m just tired. Too many voices.”

“I’d suggest going on campus, except I bet that won’t help you.”

Taeyong shakes his head. “Not really.” Checking the time, he adds, “Going to have to go soon, anyway. I won’t be back until after six, so fend for yourself tonight.”

“Good thing I know how to work a microwave.” Johnny sticks out his tongue, which Taeyong mirrors before heading to his room to grab his things.

He leaves Johnny still at the table, surrounded by failed baked goods and his movie to edit. With the promise to clean up tonight, Taeyong slips out of the apartment to head to class. He’s waiting for the elevator when he hears a door opening. Sure enough, Jaehyun steps out of his apartment. Backpack swung over his shoulder, he fiddles with the lock—making sure the door is secure—and turns toward the elevators, halting when he spots Taeyong.

 _I am not prepared_ , is the thought the flashes through Jaehyun’s mind and Taeyong has to agree because, _shit_ , he’s not prepared for this either.

Even though his mind appears to be a bit of a mess, Jaehyun casts him a smile and joins him. There’s a lot going on, Taeyong notices, floating inside Jaehyun’s head. Thoughts of his parents, of all the things he has to do today, of how tired he is. Of Taeyong.

Wait.

Taeyong startles, staring at the elevator button, still glowing from when he pressed it. It’s not a full thought. Not really. Just a passing one, but Taeyong hears it. Hears Jaehyun noting how good Taeyong apparently looks today. It makes his insides squeeze, and he closes in on himself just a bit, cheeks burning. He hopes Jaehyun can’t notice.

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asks, suddenly.

Taeyong flinches. Of course. “Fine.”

“You sure? You’re, um, giving off panicky vibes.”

It takes a lot of effort not to laugh hysterically. There’s no way he could hide that from Jaehyun. He was stupid to think he could. So, instead, he does what he can and forces himself to change the topic.

“Totally fine. Are you going to class?”

Finally, the doors to the elevator slide open and the two of them enter. It’s quiet and cramped and Taeyong presses himself against the opposite wall, hoping to get a breather. It’s hard, though, because as soon as Jaehyun smiles his breath is caught halfway and he’s stuck. The smile is a little disarming.

“Yeah. It’s a bit weird, to be honest. My exchange was supposed to be from March to June, but the company had some issues, which was why I was there from February until now. It sort of messed up the system a bit. So, now I’m taking two extra courses to make up the last month of the exchange I couldn’t be there for. It’s a whole thing and the school was nice enough to help me settle it out.”

Taeyong hums. “Sounds complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” Jaehyun laughs. “I’m starting courses halfway through the semester. Some would call me lucky and others will laugh at my misery. Anyway, you’re going to class, too?”

The doors ding and slide open. Taeyong digs his keys out from his pocket. “Yeah, it’s not for another hour, but I needed to get away from the apartment for a bit.”

“Roommates?” Jaehyun guesses.

There’s no way to really explain it unless he tells Jaehyun the truth and he just…can’t. He’s not sure he’s ready for that yet, so he mutters, “Yeah. That’s it.”

“Well, have a good class.”

It’s then that Taeyong notices that Jaehyun’s not going to his car. In fact, his SUV is nowhere in sight and Jaehyun is very much heading toward the bus stop.

“Where’s your car?” he asks.

“Oh,” Jaehyun casts a glance at the parking spot that should be his and is currently vacant. “I had to take it into the shop. The engine was stuttering. I’ll have it back tomorrow.”

Taeyong bites his lip, wondering. Gesturing to his Audi, he inquires, “Want a ride?”

_Hell yes._

“Uh, if you’re sure,” comes the reply. It seems much less sure than the thought that passed. “That would be great, actually.”

They head over to Taeyong’s car, the cherry red paint sparkling among the other vehicles in the lot. Jungwoo always says it’s hard to miss, a little too attention grabbing. Taeyong sort of agrees. He hadn’t had a lot of choice, however. His uncle had been the one to purchase it. He had found out Taeyong’s favorite color and went with the first thing he liked. Even if Taeyong refused the gift, his uncle would find a way to make him take it. And it wasn’t like he was going to complain. He took the gift with many, many thanks and, luckily, it’s a good-looking car. At least it isn’t Yuta’s yellow Pacer.

“Nice car,” Jaehyun says as he climbs into the passenger seat.

“Thanks.”

They fall quiet as Taeyong makes it out onto the street. It’s an odd sort of feeling, Taeyong thinks. He doesn’t really know Jaehyun and Jaehyun doesn’t know him, but, in a way, they know each other on a weird sort of level with their powers. Neither is threatening, but neither is a friend either and Taeyong finds himself sitting in a mixture of comfort and discomfort.

His fingers flex on the wheel when they come to a stop at a red light. “Is there anywhere specific you want me to drop you off?”

“I’ll just walk from where you park,” says Jaehyun. He’s got his eyes out the window, mind whirling so fast that Taeyong can hardly keep up. It makes him a bit dizzy, so he closes his eyes. It doesn’t last long because Jaehyun nudges his arm. “Light’s green.”

Taeyong gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Do you want aspirin?”

“Pardon?”

“Aspirin,” Jaehyun repeats. “You’re in pain, aren’t you?”

Eyes on the road, Taeyong’s fingers tighten on the wheel. “Oh. It’s just a headache. It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“It won’t help.”

One of the things Taeyong has learned early in life is that medication never helps his powers. It doesn’t matter what he takes, it won’t soothe the voices or kill the tension. He just has to get through it day after day and hope one of them will give him a break.

“I’m sorry.”

Taeyong glances at him before his attention returns to the road. “For what?”

“My power,” Jaehyun elaborates. “It makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not your fault. You have no control over it.”

Jaehyun shrugs. “Maybe, but I guess I also have no control over my mouth. I know most people don’t like hearing what they’re feeling. My cousin always gets annoyed with me when I read him.”

“I mean, I’m not used to being told what my emotions are doing, so it kind of throws me off.” He shoots him a smile. “Not going to lie. It’s lowkey annoying. But I’m not going to fault you for something you can’t help. I’ll get used to it.”

“Trust me, you won’t.”

“Let me live my fantasies,” Taeyong quips as he turns into the campus parking lot. “Really, though. I’ll survive. Besides, it’s not really your power that makes me uncomfortable.”

Once the car is parked, Jaehyun unbuckles himself and twists to face Taeyong. “So, just me then?”

Taeyong snorts. “No, not really. I’m just not good with new people. It takes me a while to warm up. Don’t take it personally.”

The smile he gets is crooked and charming and Taeyong ignores the way his stomach swoops. “I’ll try not to.”

_Thank god. Give me a chance to prove myself._

Taeyong ducks his head and thinks to himself that he already is. He’s just not sure why it feels so important to both of them. Without another word, he exits the car and pops open the back to grab his bag. Jaehyun waits for him at the hood, scrolling through his phone. Taeyong tries to ignore the words that form in Jaehyun’s head as he reads several texts from his mom.

Together, they walk toward the entrance. Taeyong’s class is in the main building and Jaehyun’s thinking about the walk to Block D, which is a building and a half over. If he had asked, Taeyong would have swung around and dropped him off there. Still, he doesn’t mention it and they walk in a somewhat comfortable silence.

Even before he reaches the main doors, he’s bombarded with thoughts and he squeezes his eyes closed, trying to find some semblance of order. In a last-ditch effort, he hones in on Jaehyun’s mind. It’s not ideal. Taeyong doesn’t usually like latching onto someone’s thoughts unless they’re a close friend. But Jaehyun is all he has as a way to drown out all the rest, so he clings to it helplessly.

Unfortunately, Jaehyun doesn’t seem to be having much luck either. Before Taeyong can even hear the voice inside his head, he can tell Jaehyun’s struggling just as much. There are too many people. Too many emotions. Especially nearing the end of their midterms. At times like this, Taeyong wishes he could stay home.

But he’s not one to miss class, so he powers on.

“You might want some aspirin,” Taeyong says with a faint smile when Jaehyun rubs at his temple.

“Nah, won’t work on me. Nothing really works.”

Another thing they have in common then, Taeyong notes. He wonders if Jaehyun does what he does. If he clings to the person closest to him and hopes it’ll be enough to distract him from the rest of humanity.

“When did you get your power?” 

“I was nearing my seventeenth birthday,” Jaehyun replies, smoothly. “I’ve always been attuned to people, though. Even when I was little, if someone cried, I did, too. I guess it just manifested into empathy when it finally came time.”

That’s the thing about abilities. Sometimes it seems as though they come out of nowhere. Sometimes people aren’t sure where the connection is. However, there are times it doesn’t quite seem like it. It could be a personality trait or an interest. Taeyong likes to think of Johnny and his need to be someone’s rock, or Doyoung’s singing voice that captures anyone’s attention, or even Jungwoo, who can adapt to anything like water.

Taeyong’s never fully understood where his came from. He never wanted to know what people were thinking. At least, not that he remembers. He had been five when his powers first arrived and, while he remembered some things, other things were lost over time.

“What about you?”

Every muscle in Taeyong’s body tenses, his grip on the straps of his backpack causing his knuckles to turn white. “Oh, it, um—it’s a bit, uh, you know?”

“Do I?” jokes Jaehyun. There’s a smirk on his face and Taeyong looks away. “Are you…What I mean to say is, you have an ability or are you—”

“I’m not a Negate,” Taeyong interrupts. Perhaps a little too quickly. It’s not because he doesn’t want to be associated with them. Taeyong’s known many Negates and has absolutely no problem with them. They’re just humans, _and_ they deserve to be respected with or without a power. But he also doesn’t want Jaehyun thinking he has not power _at all_. That would be a hole Taeyong wouldn’t be able to crawl his way out from if he ever did tell Jaehyun about his ability.

He faintly hears Jaehyun’s voice in his head, saying, _he doesn’t want to tell me_.

He really should just tell him. Except, there’s a twist in his stomach and flashes of all the people who walked off on him as soon as they found out about his telepathy and, while Taeyong’s not really sure why, he desperately doesn’t want Jaehyun to be added to that vision.

So, instead, he spots his classroom door and heaves a sigh of relief. “I’m really sorry,” he blurts before Jaehyun can ask him any more questions. “That’s my class. I have to go. But it was nice talking to you.”

“Yeah, you, too. Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem. Um, see you later.”

 _I hope so._ Jaehyun smiles. “Yeah, see you later. Have a good class.”

With that, Taeyong takes off. He practically throws himself into the classroom, drawing eyes from the few people that showed up early as well. Spotting Jisoo at their usually back station, Taeyong rushes to her side and drops his things below the counter.

“You look winded,” Jisoo comments.

Taeyong flips the tap on and proceeds to wash his hands. “I’m fine. How are you?”

Jisoo raises her brow, but doesn’t say anything about Taeyong’s obvious panic and bright red cheeks. Even though they both know she’s dying to ask. She’s one of the few people in Taeyong’s life who he’s been able to tell about his power without her getting awkward. Jisoo’s also one of those people that tends to say what’s exactly on her mind, or simply not care if Taeyong hears it.

“I have no secrets,” was all she had said when he told her while awkwardly shuffling on the spot. She was right.

“I’m doing great,” Jisoo replies, tying her hair up into a pony tail. “You might want to have some water. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” he repeats. Although, he’s not entirely sure because his heart is pounding in his chest and it’s not stopping. Why isn’t it stopping?

Jisoo shrugs. “If you’re sure.”

_Was it someone cute?_

His hands fumble on the measuring cup he’s pulling from the drawer. The response to his glare is a bright, smug smile. Shaking his head, Taeyong proceeds to set up all the things he’ll need for class. They have about half an hour left, so he’s just keeping his hands busy, trying to calm himself down.

It doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t understand why Jaehyun throws him off, why it’s so hard to talk to him. He wonders if it’s because Jaehyun was right. Maybe he really is uncomfortable with being read.

His hand moves too quickly and it knocks into the measuring cup. He isn’t fast enough. It tumbles from the counter and smashes, glass breaking off in large chunks. The sound is sharp. It cuts through his ears and he winces, hands shaking.

“Taeyong? Tae, you all right?” Jisoo asks.

But her voice sounds like she’s underwater and all the thoughts inside his head slam together and it’s like radio static. Loud and jarring with the occasional word slipping through. Glass surrounds his feet. He needs to clean it, but his body won’t move.

“Tae?”

He senses Jisoo coming closer before he sees her and when he does, he stumbles back, throwing himself into a squat and covering his head. There’s a yell and a hand and Taeyong’s body tenses. But the yells are just in his head and the hands are gentle on his shoulders. Soon enough, he’s peeking from between his arms to find Jisoo before him, brows pulled tight together and her lips downturned.

“It’s okay,” she tells him, quietly. Her hands aren’t completely touching him. They hover above his shoulders, just enough for him to feel the warmth spreading from her fingers. A hum falls from between her lips, pretty and strong, and Taeyong’s muscles relax instantly. “That’s it. It’s okay. I’m going to get a broom, all right? Don’t move.”

He’s not planning on it. In fact, he’d very much like to stay hidden behind his station and not go anywhere for a very, _very_ long time.

Once Jisoo is out of sight, Taeyong leans against the counter and exhales deeply. Whatever radio static that was in his head is now gone. The voices are back and so is his headache. Pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, he struggles to grip onto Jisoo’s mind, the only thing close enough to him to create some kind of grounding. One day, he thinks, he’ll get a release from it all.

One day.

*

Taeyong can hear them. He knows he can.

The whispers are just as noticeable as their thoughts. They’re not trying to be quiet or subtle. In fact, they don’t even look away when Taeyong glances over his shoulder at them. Four of them, he counts. Three boys and one girl, all at the building block table, all talking about him as if he can’t hear them. As if he’s completely deaf.

“He’s from another school,” whispers the girl. The bow in her hair is as large as her face. “Do you think he’s bad?”

“I hear he got into a fight,” says one of the boys.

The girl gasps. Taeyong can hear her voice in his mind. _A fight? He’s bad. He’s scary._

“The teachers were saying he has a power,” says another boy.

_A power?_

_Too young for that._

“No way! Powers are only for grown-ups. My mom says they don’t happen until you’re sixteen. There’s no way he has his yet.”

There’s a whimper before the girl asks, “What if he does, though? What if it’s dangerous?”

Taeyong sinks into his chair, fingers wet and sticky from the paints. He tries not to listen. He really does. But it’s so hard. They’re so loud, inside and out.

He hadn’t wanted to go back to school. He had told his mom that it hurt to be in class. There were too many voices, too many thoughts. She didn’t listen. She didn’t believe him.

At the end of last year, things had gotten bad. He doesn’t remember much, except screaming to go home. Crying for someone to make it stop. Instead of listening, his parents moved him to a different school and told him, under no circumstance, to tell anyone he was hearing voices. The only people who knew, were his parents, his homeroom teacher, and the principal.

It wouldn’t matter who he told, however. No one would believe him. He was six. Powers didn’t appear in people so young.

Perhaps he really was crazy.

“All right, everyone!” the teacher calls out, clapping her hands and gaining everyone’s attention. “Time for recess. Let’s clean up now.”

Taeyong picks up his water cup with messy hands. Pretending to not see the stares, he works hard to clean himself up and get ready to leave. He’s at the hooks, grabbing his lunch, when one of the boys from earlier comes up to his side.

Tiny arms crossed over his chest, the boy asks, “Did you really get into a fight at your old school?”

Taeyong shakes his head, eyes flitting over the boy’s shoulder to his friends. They gather close by.

_I don’t like him._

_He’s scary._

_I doubt he has a power. He’s too wimpy looking._

“No,” he mutters. “I didn’t fight anyone.”

“Then why are you here?”

Taeyong’s not sure what’s going on. There are too many voices in the hallway. The sound is suffocating. He reaches up to grab his backpack because he needs something to hold on to. Something to calm his nerves.

“My parents sent me here.”

Rolling his eyes, the boy says, “Well, duh. But why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bet he punched a kid,” says one of the boys from behind and the little girl next to him stares with wide, terrified eyes. “He looks like a troublemaker.”

“No,” Taeyong insists. “I wouldn’t. I didn’t.”

The boy in the back leans forward. “I bet your mom sent you here because your old school kicked you out.”

“You’re wrong!”

“He’s getting angry now. Look how red he is.”

“Is it true you have a power?” timidly asks the girl, ignoring the way the boys around her snicker at Taeyong.

“Hana, there’s no way he has a power. Look at him.”

She pouts. “But you said the teacher said so!”

“He’s six,” snaps the boy beside her. “There’s no way. Unless that’s why he fought. Maybe he was lying and got caught. You a liar?”

“No, I’m not,” Taeyong says, cheeks flaming. His head hurts and his lower lip trembles. He doesn’t want to be mad, but they’re making it so hard. Why won’t anyone listen to him? “I’m not liar and I didn’t fight.”

“Bet you did!”

“I didn’t!”

The boy in front of him sneers. “Liar, liar!”

“I’m not a liar,” Taeyong hisses. “I’ve never lied to anyone!”

_Liar._

_Scary._

_Taeyong—_

_He has no powers. He just wants attention._

_Please, Taeyong—_

_Hate him._

_Help us—_

_Nothing but an attention seeking liar. He’s a wimp. A crybaby. Come on. Cry—_

Before he knows it, his fist is flying towards the boy’s face with a burning rage. It connects with his nose and as he pulls back, startled by himself, the boy’s face flickers into another.

Mark stares back at him, nose bloody. His eyes shoot to Taeyong’s, who’s suddenly standing in a room of white. It’s bright against his eyes. Mark’s mouth is moving. There are words, but they don’t quite match with his lips. Still, Taeyong can hear them loud and clear.

“Help us. Please, Taeyong.”

The room flashes like switching channels. From Mark’s bedroom, to another Taeyong can’t recognize, to Taeyong’s kitchen. But the one that stays the most, the one that Mark is desperate for Taeyong to grasp onto, is some kind of fight club. He’s standing in the middle of a ring, the lights yellow and dim.

Taeyong’s eyes snap open, his body flinging up out of his bed. He can still hear Mark calling for him as he scrambles out of his blankets and rushes to Johnny’s room.

Shaking him, Taeyong says, “Johnny, wake up!”

Johnny, unfortunately, is a heavy sleeper. Once he’s out, he’s out, and it takes a lot of effort for him to come back to the real world. Taeyong yanks at his arm and Johnny groans, rolling over and swatting Taeyong away.

“For fuck’s sake,” he snaps. “Get up! Wake up, Johnny!”

Johnny mumbles something, but it doesn’t quite come out as words. Swiping one of the pillows under Johnny’s head, Taeyong whacks him. Hard. “Wake! The fuck! Up!” He lands a solid hit on Johnny’s head and he snaps up like a jack-in-the-box, hair sticking up in all sorts of directions and his eyes manic.

“Wh—what?” He notices Taeyong and rubs at his eyes. “What the hell? What do you want?”

“It’s Mark.”

That gets Johnny’s attention. “Where is he?”

“I’ll tell you on the way. Get up. We need to go now.”

It isn’t until he’s pulling on his coat that he notices the time. It’s past ten in the morning. On a Saturday. What were they doing this early on a Saturday morning?

“Where am I going?” Johnny asks as he climbs into the driver’s seat of his truck.

Taeyong slams the door closed, eyes on his phone as his fingers fumble to call Jungwoo. “Red-Light District.”

The truck jolts. “I’m sorry?”

“Drive, Johnny,” he orders. He puts his phone to his ear, the rings taunting him each time they appear because Jungwoo isn’t picking up and Taeyong needs him to. “Fuck. Come on, Jungwoo.”

Finally, after two more tries, Jungwoo answer. “Yo! Sorry, I was—”

“Doesn’t matter. I need your help. It’s the kids.”

The truck swings around the corner, ramming Taeyong against the door. Despite wanting to glare at Johnny, it doesn’t matter at this second. What matters is getting to Mark and his friends.

Shuffling comes from the other side of the phone. “Where are they? Lucas! Hurry up!”

“I’ll text you the address. Just hurry.” He doesn’t wait for a reply before hanging up and trying Mark’s phone. It goes straight to voicemail. “I’m going to kill him.”

“What are they even doing there?” asks Johnny.

Taeyong frowns. Mark’s thoughts are a muddle of words and images that Taeyong can’t quite read. He sees Jeno beaten, and Donghyuck with his gold eyes, and the sign of the Black Pearl Club that makes Taeyong’s stomach swoop in a way that he hates.

He’s trying to lock onto all of them, but the only one he can firmly grasp is Mark. Donghyuck’s always been a bit of an issue, and Taeyong sort of regrets not getting to know him enough. They meet in passing, in small get-togethers. Taeyong knows things about Donghyuck—just like he knows things about everyone else—but he doesn’t _know_ Donghyuck. It’s sort of unfortunate because if any of them need the extra eye, it’s Donghyuck. Ever the one to get himself into trouble or struggle through things and not tell anyone about it.

As they get closer, he can link to Jaemin. He’s not panicked, but he’s not calm either. Jeno swings around in his mind over and over. Jaemin’s also been a person Taeyong doesn’t know well, but he certainly knows him better than Mark’s other friends. They’re faint, just a whisper in the back of his mind.

“Damn it,” he hisses, trying for Mark’s phone again even though he knows it won’t help. “They’re getting themselves in trouble, is what they’re doing. Take this right.”

Johnny turns, ignoring the honk of another car as he cuts them off, and steps on it. The line between the Red-Light District and downtown is thin, yet oh so noticeable. It makes Taeyong’s skin crawl. It’s too early in the morning for traffic, but there are still people on the street when Johnny pulls up in front of a building with the sign reading ‘Black Pearl’.

He’s getting out when the front door swings open. Renjun is first, then Chenle and Jisung. All three of them halt in their steps at the sight of Taeyong and Johnny.

_Oh shit._

_We’re in so much trouble._

_Crap._

“What’s taking so long?” comes a voice from inside the building. Mark emerges with Donghyuck pressed to his side, looking exhausted and pale in the face. There’s a faint stain of red under his nose that suspiciously looks like blood. Eyes wide, Mark takes in Taeyong. “Hey.”

“Hey?” Taeyong’s trying really hard to keep his voice down, to keep himself from yelling, but, fuck, it’s so hard. “That’s what you have to say for yourself? Hey?”

_How much trouble am I in?_

“So much fucking trouble, Mark Lee,” he hisses. “Where’s Jaemin and Jeno?”

“They’re right behind us,” Mark mutters, moving so that Jaemin and Jeno can step out into the morning sun.

Johnny crosses his arms. “Mind telling us why you’re in a restricted area?”

“It’s a really long story,” Jaemin says. Taeyong meets his gaze, searching. It doesn’t take long to pull out all the information. It’s not a habit he likes to have, digging into people’s memories, but when push comes to shove, he doesn’t care. “I guess it’s not that long,” he adds, realizing that Taeyong knows exactly what happened. “We just thought this was the best course of action.”

“To walk into a dangerous part of town and fight a gang? Fucking hell, I thought we raised you better than this,” Taeyong says, rubbing at his temples. “Mark, I’m so disappointed in you.”

“Donghyuck!”

Jungwoo’s jumping out of his jeep, Lucas right after him, and racing toward them. He stumbles to a stop in front of his cousin. Placing his hands on Donghyuck’s cheeks, he turns him this way and that, looking for injures. When he sees none, he sighs and pinches Donghyuck’s shoulder, making him yelp.

“What the actual fuck, Donghyuck? Do you have a death wish or something? I’m going to murder you when we get home. I swear to god.” He pulls Donghyuck into a hug and buries his face into Donghyuck’s faded orange hair. “Please tell me you at least kicked their asses.”

“Kind of,” Donghyuck says as he pushes Jungwoo away. He looks so tired, Taeyong notes. “There was a moment we weren’t sure what was going to happen. But then Jeno’s bosses appeared.”

“Bosses?”

Taeyong looks to Jeno. Hand intertwined with Jaemin’s, he hangs his head as if he’s trying to hide. Luckily, it seems as if he has no injuries. The only person who looks like they’re struggling is Donghyuck.

“Jeno’s been underground fighting,” Taeyong announces. “I can’t even begin to tell you how stupid that is. You have way too many people you could have gone to for help. That should have been the last thing on your mind.”

 _I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._ Jeno nods, not quite meeting Taeyong’s eyes.

Sighing, Taeyong points to Mark. “Let’s get you all home.”

As he says it, though, there’s a screech of tires. He turns around to find a familiar SUV pulling up behind Jungwoo’s jeep. The door swings open and Jaehyun steps out, looking murderous.

“Jaemin Na!” he shouts. “I’m going to beat your ass!”

“Oh no,” Jaemin whimpers, ducking behind Jeno as Jaehyun marches down the sidewalk.

When he draws closer, he finally notices Taeyong and his steps slow, some anger melting from his expression. “What are you doing here?

“Mark,” Taeyong replies, as if that explains everything. “Wait, Jaemin’s your cousin?”

“You know Jaehyun?” Jaemin questions.

“He’s my neighbor,” answers Taeyong. “How did you know to be here?”

Jaehyun gestures to Jungwoo. “He called me.”

“Oh, small world.”

“Very.” Jaehyun comes to a stop next to Taeyong. He looks good, refreshed, and like he’s been up much longer than Taeyong has. He suddenly worries about his hair. Not that it matters. It really doesn’t at this moment in time. “Jaemin, mind explaining to me why you’re here? And give a good reason.”

“Jeno was in trouble and we wanted to help, but we weren’t sure it was a good idea to tell you guys what’s been happening, so we just decided to go, but then it blew up and we were in a fight and—”

Jaehyun throws up a hand, cutting Jaemin off. “Your hair is pink.”

From the other side of him, Johnny snorts. Taeyong, himself, tries hard not to smile at that. It’s such an odd sort of turn, but he knows that that’s the thing that’s been most on Jaehyun’s mind since seeing his cousin for the first time in a week or so.

He also wants to smile because he knows who did it. Donghyuck gives a tired sort of grin to Jaemin. If there was one thing that Taeyong’s done with Donghyuck, it’s given him the passion to dye his hair. Taeyong’s not sure how it started, but he’s kind of happy it’s still going.

“Oh, yeah,” Jaemin says, putting his free hand into his pink locks.

“I like it. You’re still in trouble, though.” _You’re lucky I love you, brat._

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun nods. “Can feel that.”

Just then, Donghyuck droops, knees slamming against the pavement. Mark falls with him, but keeps a firm arm around Donghyuck’s waist to keep him upright.

“Duckie?” Jungwoo gets onto the sidewalk to cup Donghyuck’s face. “Can you hear me? Did you take your pills?”

Jaemin watches, grip tightening on Jeno’s hand. “He had one earlier this morning. I made sure of it, but…”

“But what?” 

“He was too quick to use his power,” Mark explains, holding Donghyuck close. “I think he just tired himself out.”

Putting a hand on Donghyuck’s forehead, Jungwoo says, “He’s burning up.”

_He needs another one._

Taeyong’s eyes snap to Jaemin. He’s worrying his bottom lip as if he’s not sure he should say something or not. He goes to call the boy out, but Jaehyun is right beside him, so he has to be careful.

“Jaemin,” Taeyong says as softly as possible. “What is it?”

“He hasn’t…” Jaemin’s voice trails off when everyone looks at him. “He said not to say anything.”

_He was going to tell you, I swear. He planned to._

Slowly, Jungwoo stands. “Say what? Jaemin, this is serious. What’s going on?”

“Hyuck, upped his dosage,” Jaemin blurts.

There’s a bitter taste in Taeyong’s mouth. He tries not to pay attention to it, watching as Mark’s eyes snap down to Donghyuck. Judging by the way his eyelashes flutter and the way he swears at Jaemin in his head, Taeyong can make the safe conclusion that even if Donghyuck’s body is giving out, his mind is still very much awake.

“What do you mean he upped his dosage? When did you do that?”

“Not long ago.”

“He had a bad episode at school. He didn’t want anyone to know. He wanted to fix it himself,” adds Jeno.

 _He didn’t tell me._ Taeyong looks to Mark. _He kept it from me._

His stomach flips when Jungwoo kneels back down, whispering to Donghyuck. Mark looks over Jungwoo’s shoulder at Taeyong. He’s asking for help and Taeyong doesn’t know how to give it to him.

“Did he bring his pills?” Jungwoo asks. Jaemin shakes his head. “We need to get him home fast then. Come on, Jisung, Chenle.”

Jungwoo has to peel Donghyuck from Mark’s side because he’s found his home in the crook of Mark’s neck. Taeyong knows he’s quite comfortable there and would much rather not move. Mark’s face flames when Donghyuck whines and hugs closer when Jungwoo pulls on his arm. 

Chenle takes Donghyuck’s other arm and successfully moves him from Mark. “Come on, Donghyuck. You can sleep on my lap.”

Donghyuck doesn’t reply. He simply allows Jungwoo and Chenle to maneuver him toward the jeep, Lucas and Jisung trailing behind.

“Come on. Jeno, I’ll give you a ride home,” Jaehyun says, flipping his keys in his hand.

“I’ll take Mark and Renjun,” Taeyong replies.

“Well, kind of an unwanted situation, but it was nice seeing you again,” Jaehyun says, casting Taeyong a crooked smile. _Definitely not complaining._ “See you around.”

“Yeah,” Taeyong clears his throat, “see you.” When Jaehyun, Jaemin, and Jeno are on their way, he turns back to find Johnny smirking. “Say something and you’ll wish you were never born.”

_Can I think it?_

“Don’t test me,” he mutters. Then he turns to Mark and Renjun. Both seem infinitely uncomfortable. “Get in the car.”

It’s a deafening silence inside Johnny’s truck. Taeyong’s not sure who he’s most upset with. Mark for being stupid enough to travel to the Red-light District and fight with a gang, or himself for not noticing it earlier.

“I’m sorry, Taeyong,” Mark says from the back, his voice small. Taeyong knows he is. He can hear all the apologies, see all the regret. It’s hard not to when Mark is so loud about it. At least, right now. “We weren’t thinking.”

“Damn right you weren’t thinking,” Johnny says as he turns the corner. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us. Or ask us for help.”

Mark falls quiet and Taeyong tries not to enter his mind too much. The last hour and a bit have obviously been kind of traumatic. Mark’s already beating himself up enough for everyone. He keeps thinking about to how he could have done better, did something different.

Taeyong sighs. Being the oldest of his group, Mark’s taken a sort of responsible leadership role that no one ever gave him, but is somewhat expected. His friends look to him and he does what he can to help them all. Taeyong knows what that’s like. He doesn’t want Mark to think this is all his fault. Because it’s not.

“Jeno didn’t want to tell anyone,” Mark says, playing with his fingers. “And Jaemin thought it was best if we tried to handle it on our own. I thought we had it handled. Go in, get out. They cheated.”

“Of course, they did,” Johnny comments with a scoff. “They’re a gang, Mark. They just want to win. You’re lucky you got out of there without any injures.”

“Well, not all of us. They had a healer that fixed everyone up. Mark’s nose was broken,” Renjun says.

Taeyong narrows his eyes at Mark through the rearview mirror. “Again?”

Delicately touching the bridge of his nose, Mark says, “At least they had someone to heal it this time.”

Sighing, Taeyong leans back in his seat. It’s hard, he thinks, to try and be a friend while also a mentor. He’s known Mark since he was fourteen, and Mark was ten. Mark has an older brother by three years, but they don’t spend a lot of time together and when it finally came time for his brother to get out on his own, he went as far as he could. Taeyong was the one that was there for Mark through all of it.

Through the discovery of his abilities, to his awkward puberty phase, to his first crush, his first girlfriend, to the discovery of his sexuality. Taeyong was the support Mark clung to. But somewhere along the line he clearly failed. Otherwise, Mark would have come to him for help. Taeyong wonders what he could have done to make it better, to have Mark tell him all the things that go on in his mind without having to search for it sometimes.

He remembers when he first met Mark. On the subway back home after a long, tiring day. The lull of the train running against the tracks causing him to drop into a dream. There, is where he meets ten-year-old Mark, terrified and completely confused. It wasn’t his first time dream jumping, but he was still new to it. Wide eyed and young, Mark latched onto Taeyong, who tried to sift through his dream until he finally woke up, still on the train heading home.

It turned out, Mark was on the same train, a few seats down and across from him. He wakes up disoriented and scared and his voice so loud in Taeyong’s head that he catches it as soon as his eyes open. He spends the next hour calming Mark down and dropping him off at home. After that, Taeyong made it a habit to reach out, to be there when Mark needed him.

Taeyong’s dropped many things to help Mark out and he doesn’t regret any of those moments.

What he does regret, is not being there fast enough. Like tonight.

He feels a hand on his arm and Taeyong blinks out of his thoughts. _Don’t blame yourself_ , he hears as he turns to find Mark leaning forward, hand on Taeyong’s elbow. _It’s my fault. I should have said something._

He frowns before softening his eyebrows and giving Mark a half-smile. “I’m just glad you’re safe. But if you ever go back there, I will personally murder you in a dream. Got that?”

Despite the threat, Mark beams. “Got it.”

They drop Renjun off first. Taeyong gives him the same warning that he gave Mark—just with slightly different words—and Renjun swallows, head nodding jerkily. Taeyong catches a quick thought from Renjun about not wanting to piss Taeyong off. It makes him smile and shake his head.

“All your friends are going to be terrified of Taeyong,” Johnny says as he steers the truck from the curb.

Mark laughs. “I think they’re already terrified of Taeyong. But they also admire him, so it’s a bit of a mixed bag.”

“Glad to know I’ve got it even on both ends,” says Taeyong. “Turn here.”

“I know where I’m going.” Johnny turns anyway.

Mark catches his gaze in the mirror, smile gone. _Taeyong, he didn’t tell me about his supplements. Why didn’t he tell me?_

“He didn’t want to worry you.” Even though he whispers, his voice carries over the purring engine easily. Johnny’s eyes flick to him, but doesn’t say anything. “No one likes talking about supplements, Mark. He didn’t want to burden you, or anyone else.”

“He told Jaemin.”

“Maybe he didn’t mean to. Maybe it was a slip up. Either way, I can tell you now, he didn’t tell you because he didn’t want you to worry.”

“But why? I’m his best friend.”

“Exactly.” Taeyong leans his head back against the seat, watching the world speed by. “People, especially people like Donghyuck, don’t like appearing weak.”

Mark falls quiet, but Taeyong can still hear his mind and it’s a mess. He can’t even begin to unravel it. Not until Mark’s calmed down.

They park in Mark’s driveway.

“It’ll work out,” Johnny says. “Don’t be too mad at him. He was just doing what he thought was right.”

“I know.” Mark gets out the car, slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t even look back as he marches up to his front door and slips inside.

Johnny shakes his head. “He’s a whirlwind, isn’t he?”

“He’s trying his best,” Taeyong mutters.

“Should we worry?”

“No, he’ll be fine. Let’s go home.”

Backing out of the driveway, Johnny says, “If we’re fast enough, you might catch Jaemin’s hot cousin coming home.”

“Johnny,” he warns.

“I think you should go ask him for a cup of sugar. See where that lands you.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “He knows I’m doing culinary arts. I would assume that means I generally have all the ingredients I need.”

“Even the greatest chefs slip up, dude. Besides, he’d let you. There’s no way he’d even argue with you.”

“We’re not even friends, Johnny. How about we start there?”

“How about,” Johnny smirks, “no?”

Taeyong groans.

“Oh, come on. I don’t even need to read your mind to know that you find him attractive and he finds you attractive. Isn’t that a good place to be? Like, flaunt what you got and he’s yours.”

“I would very much like a relationship not based on looks, thank you very much.”

“But it’s a starting point.”

Taeyong furrows his brow. “Why are you so set on this?”

“I just want you to be happy. Not that you can’t be happy without a partner, but you and I both know that you want one. At some point,” Johnny adds quickly when Taeyong opens his mouth to retort. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just that, well, Tae, you make it hard on yourself. Sure, you’ve got us, but that’s not the same.”

“I’m not exactly the ideal partner,” Taeyong replies.

A snort escapes Johnny’s lips. “Are you fucking kidding me? Taeyong, you’re like the perfect partner. Okay, yeah, you can read people’s minds, but some people have zero issues with it.”

“Not zero. They’re just better at tolerating it. Johnny, it’s not easy to date someone when they’re constantly worried about thinking the wrong thing, or feeling like the relationship isn’t equal. I don’t blame them at all.”

“I guess, but what about Jaehyun? His powers are pretty much the same as yours. Wouldn’t that level the playing field?” suggests Johnny.

Shaking his head, he says, “I don’t even know him. Not really, anyway.”

“So? Get to know him. Dude, he’s your neighbor. Do the neighborly duty and be friendly. I don’t know, man. This isn’t rocket science.”

“You’re right. It’s harder.” Taeyong sinks into his seat, lower lip poking out. “Doesn’t help that he kind of intimidates me.”

“Is it the whole I-know-what-you’re-feeling thing? Because that could be intimidating. I mean, I wouldn’t know, having a telepathic friend and all, but I could only assume—” Taeyong smacks him on the arm, causing Johnny to erupt in boisterous laughter. “Look, this might be a good thing. You’re always trying to keep yourself, well, to yourself. Maybe this will be a good change.”

“Or it’ll be the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. That’s my job.”

Once the truck comes to a complete stop, back in their apartment parking lot, they get out and Johnny meets Taeyong at the hood of his vehicle. Taeyong frowns. It isn’t as if Johnny hasn’t made some good points. He has. It’s been way too long since Taeyong’s even considered dating. The first and only time was back in high school and he ended up stopping himself, knowing that his powers wouldn’t exactly work out. Since then, he’s been on blind dates. Ones set up by his friends and kept secret until he arrived just to make sure he didn’t duck out too early. Of course, it never goes past that.

It isn’t that Taeyong doesn’t want to date. Johnny’s also right on that. Taeyong does want someone. He wants what Jungwoo has with Lucas, or what Yuta has with Sicheng. Heck, he’d even take whatever the hell is going on with Mark and Donghyuck over being pathetically single and not even getting close to someone, in general.

But he also knows the reality. And the reality is, no one wants someone who can read their mind twenty-four-seven. People like the mystery, like the games. Sure, sometimes it’s handy, but the rest of the time? The whole point of dating is to discover things about people, not know what makes them tick within ten minutes.

Taeyong doesn’t like to think he’s a pessimist. Simply realistic. He knows what people want and what people want isn’t him.

“You know,” Johnny says as they walk into their apartment—it looks like Doyoung’s left for his chorus practice, “I get the sneaking suspicion you still haven’t told him about your power.”

“That’s because I haven’t,” Taeyong replies, dropping onto the couch. When Johnny raises a brow at him, he adds, “I always take time before I tell someone. You know that.”

“This is different.”

“How is this different?”

Sighing, Johnny sits beside him. “The difference is that you’re attracted to him—Ah, don’t interrupt me and listen. All the other people you’ve told in your life have been friends, coworkers, bosses, lab partners. They’re people that you either have to tell or people that, if they choose to leave, it won’t hurt you that much. Jaehyun, though? You like him. Okay, so you don’t really know him, but you want to. And I bet if you got to know him, you’d really like him. And you’re worried about messing that up. Am I right?”

“I don’t know why people equate attraction to liking someone. Like you said, I don’t know him, Johnny. I can’t base everything off his looks,” he says. Johnny stares at him blankly. It’s the kind of stare he’s used to seeing. The one that reads: _Come on, Taeyong, don’t be stubborn._ And that’s exactly what Johnny’s thoughts say, too. Taeyong purses his lips. “I mean, okay, you aren’t particularly _wrong_. I guess, I’m worried I will like him. He’s someone I’m not used to and he—”

“Makes your heart race?” Johnny wiggles his brows.

Taeyong hits him on the arm. Not that it’ll do any good. Johnny’s built like a rock. “Not the point. The point is, if I end up liking him and I have to tell him and he runs,” Taeyong balances his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands, “then what? What do I do then?”

“Eat lots of ice cream, curse at the world, and then start all over again. Welcome to the world of dating. It’s not easy for anyone. Well, it would be easy for me if you just told me if the girl on the first floor liked me back.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I would be having fun. Loads of fun. Wait. This isn’t about me. This is about you. Look,” Johnny turns so he can fully face Taeyong, “I know you. You’re going to take your time with this because that’s what you do and what you’ve learned to do it. It’s not a bad thing, but if something does happen—and I’m not saying something will, but if it _does_ —you’re going to regret not telling him sooner. At least think about it.”

“I will,” he promises. “I am. I’ll get there.”

Johnny pats his knee and stands up. “I trust you.”

_I just hope you’re right._

Taeyong does, too.

Johnny isn’t even halfway down the hallway when there’s a knock on their door. Stopping, Johnny shoots Taeyong a look. _Did you invite someone?_

“No,” he says as he gets up to answer it. He should have checked the peephole. That would have given him some time to prepare. Now, he’s got to settle with the fact that Jaehyun is standing in front of him with a sheepish smile, and Taeyong’s heart is doing that stuttering thing he’s not used to. “Hi. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I guess I’m just here to,” Jaehyun waves his hands as if he’s searching for the right words. Taeyong hears all the choices before he picks, “Apologize. I wanted to apologize.”

Taeyong blinks. “For what?”

“For this morning,” Jaehyun explains. “Jaemin explained what happened to me and it sounds like he sort of roped his friends into it. I love him to pieces, but he’s a brat.”

“Taeyong, who is it?” Johnny emerges from behind him. “Oh, hey, man. Jaehyun, right?”

“Yeah.” He shakes Johnny’s hand, eyes flicking between him and Taeyong. “You were at the club with the rest of us, right? I didn’t know you guys lived together.”

Taeyong watches as their hands clasp and release in such an easy greeting. He’s sort of envious of it because he knows he’s never that calm when meeting people, especially people around his age. There’s something infinitely scarier about his own generation.

He’s so focused on Johnny’s teasing remarks in his head that he almost misses Jaehyun thinking, _Friend or—_

“Friend!” Taeyong blurts, cheeks flaming and his heart pounding. Both Johnny and Jaehyun stare at him with wide, startled eyes. “I—I just mean, um, Johnny’s my friend. We live together with our other friend. We’re all friends. Right, Johnny?”

Johnny bites his lip hard, trying to keep himself from laughing. He’s doing a poor job inside his own head, but Taeyong doesn’t expect him to. _Nice save, spaz._

He wants the world to swallow him whole.

“Why don’t you come in?” Johnny asks Jaehyun.

“In?” Taeyong parrots.

Jaehyun tilts his head. “Are you okay? Your panic is through the roof. I can leave if you want.”

“Nah, that’s just Taeyong for you,” Johnny puts in, shoving Taeyong farther inside the apartment and beckoning Jaehyun inside. “Don’t worry. He’ll calm down. Eventually.”

“Sure.” Although, Jaehyun doesn’t look convinced. Even as he’s closing the door behind him and moving to take a seat on the couch.

“Want anything to drink?” Johnny offers.

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

“In that case,” Johnny starts backwards down the hall. He catches Taeyong’s eye, who stares at him, pleadingly. “I’m going to have a shower. Talk amongst yourselves, children.”

“He’s an interesting person. Very happy,” Jaehyun comments.

Still glaring at the door Johnny’s disappeared behind, he says, “He’s just happy with my misery.”

“I can leave if you want,” offers Jaehyun, but Taeyong sighs, shakes his head, and places himself on the other end of the couch, a cushion over to create some space. “Want to talk about it?”

Taeyong furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun says, coughing a laugh. “Just whatever’s on your mind?”

_He’s stressed. I can feel it. Timid. Embarrassed. Definitely panicked. Maybe even a little sad. Don’t push it, Jaehyun. Don’t._

His lips threaten to pull into a smile. It’s kind of a rarity to find someone trying to hold back what they want to say around him. All his friends have given up, letting Taeyong read their first and initial thought even if it’s ridiculously blunt. In a way, it’s sort of sweet how Jaehyun’s trying not to be as honest, trying to control his own tongue from blurting out the emotions he’s getting from Taeyong. Unlike normal, considering he never had much trouble outwardly saying how Taeyong, or others, were feeling before.

Perhaps, Taeyong wonders, Jaehyun’s trying not to irk Taeyong, to be pushy like he would with others.

“You know, school,” Taeyong says. “And the fact that Mark was in the Red-Light District. Normal everyday things to be stressed about.”

“How long have you known Mark?”

“Since he was ten. He’s kind of like my little brother.”

Jaehyun nods. “Jaemin and I are the same. Not blood related, but our parents were best friends and we grew up together. I honestly thought he’d know better.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says with a sigh. “I know they thought they were doing the right thing. Still, what a mess. How is Jaemin, by the way?”

“Shaken up, but happy. I don’t even think dealing with a gang dimmed his elatedness of actually getting Jeno.”

“Ah, that explains the hand holding. Well, that was one thing we were all waiting for. Glad something good came out of that whole thing.”

Laughing, Jaehyun leans back into the couch and says, “Could have been worse?”

“Don’t jinx it, please.”

The water from the shower can be heard from down the hall and Taeyong’s glad that at least Johnny isn’t trying to listen to him. He would. He has. Johnny knows no bounds. Still, there’s a flutter in his stomach when he looks back from the hallway to find Jaehyun staring at him—admiring him, but Taeyong refuses to think about that particular train of thought—and he clears his throat.

“You sure you don’t want some tea or something?” he offers, voice a little unstable. He really hopes Jaehyun will say nothing about the change in his demeanor. “I can put on the kettle.”

“No, thank you. I appreciate it, but I probably shouldn’t stay too long. I was working on a project before Jungwoo called me. Then I had to lecture Jaemin on the way home and, man, that was hard.”

“Lecture?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to tell his parents what he was doing, so I might as well take the moment to hammer in lessons on safety and stupidity.” Jaehyun runs his fingers through his hair and Taeyong finds himself following the movement. “They’re lucky the owners showed up. With a healer, no less. Can’t image what would have happened if they didn’t.”

There’s a pull on Taeyong’s heart that’s slightly painful, a maybe just a little nerve-wracking. It’s a feeling he knows perfectly well and one that he’s not predominantly fond of. He sees fire and light and smiles. He feels the laughter, the danger, the hope. Taeyong hasn’t had that for a while. He doesn’t want to say he misses it because he’s got a much better life now than he did then, but in a sad sort of way he does.

That’s the hard part.

“It’s odd, you know,” Jaehyun says, snapping Taeyong’s attention to him once again. He’s got a good habit of being able to do that. “Your emotions are so high, so readable, but you’re still a bit of a mystery to me, Taeyong.” He stands and brushes off his pants before sending Taeyong a bright smile. “Well, see you?”

It takes Taeyong a moment to realize the other is leaving. He scrambles to his feet. “Uh, yeah. Thanks for stopping by.”

As he steps around—maneuvering himself between Taeyong and the coffee table—his front brushes Taeyong’s. It’s close enough to catch the scent of his aftershave and the light cologne. He curses at himself for finding it a good smell, an _attractive_ smell. They’re a little too close, though it’s only for a second. Still, it causes Taeyong to halt inhaling, air caught in his throat, eyes wide as he stares right into Jaehyun’s.

It hits Taeyong in the chest more so than anything. Then it warms his body and Taeyong is pretty sure he’s too stunned to blush. Although, he’s been wrong before. It curls around his insides like a snake, warm and tight. While it should feel disorienting, maybe even a bit terrifying, he finds himself inching more toward comfort than anything else.

Jaehyun’s gaze makes his mind turn to putty in a way he’s never experienced before. Like melting into nothing but colors, words gone. It’s startling. So startling that Taeyong inhales a little sharper, willing himself to breathe, and nearly chokes. Thankfully, he saves himself and tears his eyes away, fixing on his socked feet instead.

The moment’s broken and Jaehyun is stepping backwards toward the door. His smile turns weak, maybe a little bashful and Taeyong finds himself desperate to find out what he’s thinking.

 _God damn it, calm yourself, Jaehyun. He’s your neighbor, not your boyfriend. Find your chill._ _But, my god, he looks beautiful…_

_I hope he’s talking to someone. Stress is better released then pent up._

The last thought is quiet. So quiet that Taeyong almost misses it. The words make his heart tug and he finds himself blurting out, “Hey, are you doing anything Wednesday night?”

Jaehyun stops at the door. “Um, no. Why?”

“My friends and I, we do a dinner on Wednesday nights. It’s the only time available for all of us. You could, uh, join us. If you wanted.” Taeyong shifts on the spot, looking everywhere but Jaehyun. “You can bring Taeil, too.”

When he’s finally brave enough to check, Jaehyun’s lips are curling into a soft smile. Taeyong tries not to pay attention to the way Jaehyun does a mental cheer. “You cooking?”

Taeyong blinks. “Yeah. I always do.”

“Then count me in.”

“That’s what sold you?”

A laugh escapes Jaehyun. “The food is just a bonus. Jaemin said your food is to die for.”

“Just a bonus?”

“You sold me, in general.”

Taeyong can’t pretend that wasn’t flirting. It was very clearly flirting and he knows his cheeks are bright red. “Stop that.”

“What?” Jaehyun asks, smirking.

Huffing, he crosses his arms. “Trying to embarrass me.”

“But it’s so easy.” Jaehyun opens the door. “See you later, Taeyong. I hope your panic calms down.”

As soon as the door closes, Taeyong drops onto the couch. Johnny pokes his head out of the bathroom, wet hair dripping on the floor and sticking to his forehead. He wiggles his eyebrows and Taeyong throws a pillow at him. Johnny’s laugh is loud as Taeyong sinks into the cushions, trying to figure out what exactly he’s trying to do with his life.

*

Taeyong taps on the steering wheel of his Audi, feeling unsure and anxious. Worrying his lip, he glances at his phone. It’s early afternoon, just after his class. He hadn’t really thought much before he jumped into the car. Finding himself outside of Black Pearl was both surprising and expected.

It hadn’t changed much since he last saw years ago. Grey walls and ugly, green door. The only difference is the sign. It looks new. They could have at least done a paint job on the outside. Still, Taeyong’s not in charge, so he keeps his judgment low as he finally gets out of the car.

The street is fairly empty, save for a few people here and there. A few feet away is a woman. She watches him with eyes like a hawk’s, fingers curled around a cigarette. She’s thinking of how to get in his pants and get a pretty penny for it. Unfortunately for her, he’s not into that scene. He casts her a hard look, hoping it’s enough to defer her attention elsewhere. It works. She crushes her cigarette under her heel and marches off in the opposite direction.

Taking a deep breath of musty air, Taeyong heads towards the door and bangs on it. He hopes it’s loud enough for the people inside to hear. However, several quiet moments pass and he starts to wonder if anyone is inside. They should be. The place opens in three hours and, from his memory, there was always someone inside doing something.

He’s about to give up and go back to his car when the door swings open, the hinges creaking. Taeyong finds himself staring into the eyes of a familiar face. His fingers clutch his keys.

“Taeyong,” the man greets, his voice nothing but breath. His wide eyes shift around the street before landing back on Taeyong. “What are you doing here?”

_You shouldn’t be here._

He winces. “Not going to invite me in, Baekhyun?”

Straightening, Baekhyun pushes on the door a bit to create a bigger opening, and juts his chin out. _You always were trouble, Taeyong Lee_. “Come on in, then.”

Taeyong slips under his arm and descends the steps into the club. It smells like it used to. Like alcohol and musk. The lights around the bar are on, casting an eerie yellow glow that doesn’t quite reach the corners of the large room. A boxing ring sits in the middle of the space.

The door to the backroom opens and a tall man steps out. He halts upon seeing Taeyong before breaking into a large grin. He races over and picks Taeyong up, swinging him around. “Wow! It’s been ages. Look at you all grown up.” He drops Taeyong back onto his feet. “Finally decided to visit?”

“I guess,” he says, smiling. He watches as Baekhyun comes to stand beside Chanyeol. They look almost the same as they did years ago when they were teens, inching into adulthood. “It’s good to see you.”

“What do you need?” Baekhyun, ever the one to cut to the chase. He studies Taeyong with dark eyes.

“Jeno.”

Chanyeol’s eyebrows raise to his hairline. “Jeno? He’s not here.”

“No, I know that. I mean,” he sighs, ruffling his hair nervously, “I guess I’m here to both berate you and thank you.”

A snort comes from Baekhyun. “Berate us?”

“Thank us?” Chanyeol asks.

“You allowed a sixteen-year-old boy to fight!” he shouts, and Chanyeol and Baekhyun flinch when his voice echoes off the walls. “What were you thinking? He could have been seriously injured.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “You know how we run this place. He wasn’t in actual danger. He got healed, didn’t he?”

“That’s so not the point, Baekhyun,” Taeyong says. “He shouldn’t have been fighting in the first place. You two could have been caught. _All_ of you could have been caught.”

Rubbing at the nape of his neck, Chanyeol at least has the decency to look ashamed of his choices. “It just sort of happened. We’ve been running this place for a few years. We at least know how to keep a low profile. And we always look after our fighters.”

“At least he’s not here anymore,” adds Baekhyun. “Took some of our money with him, though.”

Taeyong’s eyes flick to the ceiling. “And that’s my thank you.” He glances around the club once again. Really, not much has changed since the old owners had it. Then again, he never expected Chanyeol or Baekhyun to change the interior when they finally got the key. “It’s weird being back here.”

“It’s weird seeing you here.”

“Baek,” Chanyeol hisses. He casts Taeyong a smile. “You know how he is.”

_He missed you._

Taeyong knows. He can hear Baekhyun’s thoughts just as much as Chanyeol’s.

“Don’t make excuses for me,” Baekhyun grumbles. “The others should be here soon. If you want to stick around.”

He hadn’t expected to stick around. He hadn’t really expected to make it through the door in the first place. Actually, he’s not really sure why he decided to show up in the first place. He just felt like he needed to. Like he needed to go back.

“Come on, I’ll get you a coffee,” Chanyeol says, throwing his arm around Taeyong’s shoulders and leads him to the back office.

This room’s changed, Taeyong notices. It used to just have a desk and a few chairs. It looks like Chanyeol’s invested in some shelves and filing cabinets. It’s nice to know he’s a little more organized than he used to be. And definitely more than past owner, Heechul, had been.

Taeyong smiles when he sees a framed photo of Chanyeol and Baekhyun on the desk. He picks it up for a closer look. It had to have been around the time he knew them because Chanyeol’s hair was a mix of cotton candy pink and baby blue. He was hugging Baekhyun from behind, both of them beaming.

The picture is yanked from his grasp. Baekhyun sets it back on the desk. His face may be impassive, but his ears are bright red.

Sitting in the chair in the corner, he says, “It’s nice to know you guys are still together after all these years.”

“I’m the only one that can put up with him,” Baekhyun replies, perching himself on the corner of the desk.

“Don’t try to tell me you don’t love him. I can read your mind.”

“Where did little, quiet Taeyong go?” But there’s a slight smile on his face and his thoughts are all light, so Taeyong knows he’s not in trouble.

He gazes up at Baekhyun. “I missed you. I’m sorry we lost touch.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“I think we both know whose and it wasn’t either of us,” he says, quietly. Baekhyun looks away. “Guess we can’t blame him, though.”

“It wasn’t just him. We all decided. In the end, it was what was best for you and I’m glad it worked out,” says Baekhyun.

The door opens and Chanyeol comes in, a cup of coffee in his hands. “It’s not the best in the world, but it’s something.”

Taeyong takes it gratefully. “So, looks like you guys finally got this place. After years of begging.”

“We didn’t beg,” argues Baekhyun.

Chanyeol laughs. “We insisted.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s going well then?”

“As well as it can go. We’ve got traffic and we make money. Not much to complain about in the grand scheme of things. How about you?”

Taeyong takes a sip of the coffee. Chanyeol was right. It’s not the best. But it tastes familiar, warming up his insides. “I’ve been okay. I’m graduating university soon.”

“The guys will be happy to hear that,” Chanyeol says. “They miss you.”

“Especially Jongin. He doesn’t shut up about you,” adds Baekhyun. “Sometimes I think he likes you better than us.”

“That’s because he does,” comes a voice from the door.

Taeyong’s barely put his coffee down on the desk before the new addition tosses himself in his lap. The body may appear slender, but it’s pure muscles and it weighs down on him in a slightly awkward way. Still, he laughs and hugs the guy back because, man, he’s missed this.

“Get off him before you crush him,” Baekhyun scolds.

There’s another set of hands and suddenly the man is being pulled away. A wide, bright smile is still on his handsome face. “Taeyongie! Missed you, man.”

_So glad you’re back!_

Taeyong can’t help but chuckle. They’re only a year a part, but sometimes that year feels like a decade. Or sometimes just a day.

“I brought you a present,” Jongin says as he tugs on Taeyong’s hands to get him standing. “You’ll love me for it.”

“Will I?” The smile on his face twitches when he catches sight of a familiar face inside Jongin’s mind. “Oh.”

Jongin nods in agreement. “Oh.”

Taeyong lets himself be pulled from the office, Chanyeol and Baekhyun trailing behind. They slip back into the main room. There, hovering by the stairs, are two other people. They’re both dressed in suits, ties and all, and Taeyong finds it a little odd considering that the last time he saw them they were making fun of men in suits and gagged at the thought of ever having to wear one.

They hear the door and turn from their quiet conversations.

_Taeyong._

He wants to say something. Or maybe even wave. But his body isn’t allowing him to do anything. It’s been so long and Taeyong’s not sure what to even say, let alone do. He’s a different person now, and they clearly are as well.

“Hi,” he manages, taking in the two of them. “Junmyeon. Luhan.”

Junmyeon is all gentle smiles and warm feelings. He easily strides across the divide to pull him into a tight hug. It’s like home. It’s like sinking into a bed at the end of a long day. It’s like a father welcoming his son back from months away at school. And Taeyong finds himself clutching closer because he needs this. He didn’t know how much he needed this.

He buries his head in to the crook of Junmyeon’s shoulder. Four years of age difference, but Junmyeon feels like more than just an older brother. He feels like a father. Even though Taeyong’s never had a real one, this is what he thinks it would feel like.

_You’ve been away for too long._

When they finally lean away, Junmyeon takes Taeyong’s shoulders in his hands and stares into his eyes. Strong and steady. _You look well. Are you well?_

Taeyong laughs. “Very.”

“Good,” Junmyeon replies and he steps back completely. “How long has it been?”

“Seven years, maybe?” he guesses.

“Too long,” Jongin comments, just a bit whiny. “You need to visit more often.”

Another voice says, “It’s probably best that he doesn’t. We don’t want to rope him into our troubles.”

The tone is light, but there’s a heaviness to it. A sadness. Taeyong follows it until it connects to Luhan. He hasn’t moved since he saw Taeyong, still stuck at the bottom of the stairs as if he’s unsure what to do. Never one for physical affection, Taeyong’s not really surprised that Luhan hasn’t.

_Miss me?_

The backs of his eyes burn. He doesn’t want to cry. He’s stronger than that. But being back at Black Pearl, seeing faces he hasn’t seen since he was a child. It’s bringing things to the forefront that he’s been trying so desperately to keep at bay.

His feet are moving before he can stop himself, launching into Luhan’s arms and clinging on for dear life. Luhan doesn’t feel any different than he did before. Still a slender frame with bony shoulders. He smells like cologne, something weighty and sweet, yet so Luhan than Taeyong almost laughs at it. He hasn’t changed much at all.

That’s nice.

_You’re going to suffocate me._

“Leave me be,” he mutters into the blazer fabric.

 _Get off me, you brat_. The words are harsh, but there’s a soft laugh that shakes from Luhan’s core as he shoves Taeyong away playfully. The laughter dies, though, and Luhan thinks, _You shouldn’t be here._

“Maybe not, but I had to make sure those two stayed away from my kids,” Taeyong says, pointing to Chanyeol and Baekhyun, who both seem very affronted.

“Your kids?” Junmyeon questions.

Chanyeol elaborates, “Jeno.”

“Ah. Wait, you know Jeno?”

Taeyong frowns. “Can I just mention that I’m extremely disappointed that you let those two have Jeno fight in the ring? What the hell were you thinking? He could have been seriously injured! He could have died!”

“You know we’re safer than that,” Junmyeon says. “We’ve got all the areas covered. Besides, you used to fight.”

“Not in an actual fight, though,” he counters. He clicks his tongue. “Fighting Jongin or Sehun was nothing but fun. Jeno was actually out there getting injured. And then another gang gets involved?”

Chanyeol holds up his hands in mock surrender. “We got it covered, didn’t we? Won’t be seeing them for a while. Or ever. Not unless they want to deal with us.”

Glowering, Taeyong says, “They better not because if I hear Jeno’s back in that ring, I’m going to come back and murder all of you.”

A chuckle comes from beside him and he looks to see Luhan covering his mouth, eyes crinkled. _You turned into such a mom. What happened?_

“I grew up,” he says, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “And I made idiotic friends that need someone to make sure they don’t get their asses beaten. I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Chanyeol pouts. “We’re safe. We’ve got Yixing—when he’s not in China—to heal the guys right up, and Junmyeon and Luhan on the legal side. See? All bases covered.”

“Legal?” Eyes bouncing from Junmyeon and Luhan, incredulously. “You went into legal studies?”

“Someone had to if we wanted to keep up the pretenses,” Luhan replies with a shrug. “Kyungsoo’s a police officer.”

“Holy hell, no way. What the actual fuck?” he squeaks. “You’re literally double crossing the system?”

“How else do you think we run this place?”

“You went from a gang to the mafia.”

_Pretty much._

Taeyong’s not sure whether or not he should be impressed or scared.

“Chan and I have to go do the books before we open. Feel free to stick around,” says Baekhyun as he turns to head back to the office.

Chanyeol backs away to follow him. “Come say goodbye before you leave.”

“Come on, Jongin,” Junmyeon says as he begins to pull the other boy toward the back. “Let’s let them talk.”

“But I want to spend time with Tae,” Jongin whines.

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Taeyong promises. Jongin leaves with his lower lip protruding. When the door closes, he glances at Luhan. “How are you?”

Luhan gestures toward the bar, leading Taeyong over. “I mean, other than stressing over mounds of paperwork and grueling court cases? Wonderful.”

_It’s hell._

Taeyong snorts. “Never pictured you in a suit.”

“Never thought I’d wear one,” agrees Luhan. “They’re ridiculously uncomfortable. You know, there are people I work with that actually enjoy these monkey suits. Junmyeon is one of them. Go figure.”

A spark of joy shoot through Taeyong when he takes note of Luhan’s hair, still blond like it had been when he was nineteen, and he can spot the ink that pokes up past the collar of his dress shirt. He even still has the tongue piercing—a stupid decision he made only a year after knowing Taeyong and done by Baekhyun’s careful hands—which shimmers in the dim light when he talks. Lawyer or not, the teenage delinquent still shines through.

What once used to be a strange, unsure feeling in his stomach, has uncurled into a sense of familiarity and nostalgia. He remembers sneaking into the back of the club and watching the others pull pranks on one another. He also remembers the under-the-table dealings and the way everyone would slip out at random times, only to come back breathless and bruised. Still, he wouldn’t have changed it for the world because these people were the ones that found him, accepted him, and that still means a lot to him after all these years.

Luhan walks around the bar and takes out two glasses. Practiced hands pour them drinks. Taeyong takes it with a smile. Luhan lifts his glass in a silent toast and downs it.

Taeyong remembers when Luhan found him, broken and crying and begging to never go home ever again. It was Luhan that put him back together and gave him a different home to love. It was Luhan that taught him the truth about life. It was Luhan who saved him.

Sometimes, Taeyong wonders if Luhan remembers it just as well, if he ever thinks about the teary, little boy, who ran away from home, curled up in alley way shadows.

“Get up,” he remembers Luhan demanding with his blond hair spiked in the front and his clothing hanging off his thin frame.

Taeyong had taken in that thin teenage boy and frowned. “Why?”

“I’m taking you home.”

Home, as it turned out, was this club. Luhan and a few others slept in the back rooms, working for a local gang as rent payment. Taeyong had been accepted easily enough. Even with his power, no one cared. No one cared because Luhan’s was even more trouble.

“Stop that,” Luhan mutters, pouring himself another drink.

“What?”

Pointing at him, Luhan says, “I can feel you probing.”

“I’m not probing.”

Luhan raises a brow. “Do you really think you’d be able to do that without me noticing? Come on, Taeyong. Who taught you how to control your powers again?”

“I was just seeing,” he says, quietly.

“Seeing?”

Sighing, Taeyong leans on the counter. “I think it’s unfair that you can block me, but I can’t block you.”

The laugh he gets is light and high. Luhan grins, sharp canines flashing. “Is that all? Well, can’t help you there. Is there something I _can_ help you with? It’s not every day I get a visit from Jongin telling me that little Tyong-Tyong’s back.”

Taeyong scratches the nape of his neck, ducking his head at the nickname. “This isn’t the first time I thought about coming back and seeing you guys. This is just the first time I actually made it through the door.” He nurses his drink. The condensation drips onto the counter. “I was going to ask for help two years ago.”

“What happened?”

“My friend and his cousin,” he says, “they were in a tricky spot. It’s better now, but it wasn’t then and I didn’t want to lose either of them.”

The day he found out Jungwoo’s parents wanted to put Donghyuck back into the system was the first day Taeyong really wanted to come back. He had offered Jungwoo the option. Luckily, it didn’t have to happen. Still, it wasn’t something he liked to think about.

He didn’t like the fact that the only time he needed to see Luhan was to ask for help.

“I’m glad things worked out. You don’t have to worry, you know?” Luhan’s voice catches his attention. It’s soft, yet serious. “You can ask for my help any time.”

“You say that, but I know you hate it.”

“I don’t hate helping you.”

“You hate using your powers.”

Luhan coughs a laugh. “Sometimes I love it. Especially when I can save someone. Don’t think I hated helping you get away from your parents. I’d do it all over again. I’m sad I couldn’t, actually.”

Taeyong stares at the drink in his hands. He sees teenaged Luhan in his mind, jaw locked and eyes blazing, as he tells Taeyong to stay on the sidewalk before disappearing inside his house. He comes back, takes Taeyong’s hand, and drags him away.

It’s only a few weeks later that Taeyong finds out what Luhan cound do. How he can sink into someone’s memories and alter them, make them believe whatever he wants or forget whatever he wants. It isn’t permanent. It only lingers for a few months. So, when the time comes for Taeyong’s parents to remember they have a son, there’s silence. They don’t come for him. They don’t search for him. Taeyong clings to Junmyeon for days after that, knowing his parents aren’t ever going to take him back. That they don’t want him.

While Luhan’s powers are terrifying for the most part, Luhan isn’t. He acts tough, but he’s the most protective and kind person Taeyong’s ever met. He found a crying boy and took care of him. And even though memories are his main ability, Luhan can access thoughts and feelings. He’s the one that taught Taeyong how to focus on a single thought when the rest gets too much. For hours, they’d sit in one of the small back rooms and go over lesson after lesson.

It was Luhan that helped Taeyong come to terms with his powers.

“How’s your uncle?” Luhan asks, snapping Taeyong out of his thoughts.

“He’s fine. Still trying to drown me in money when he can. I think he still feels bad for how my parents treated me.”

Luhan taps on the counter. “Not like he knew. Glad he’s been helping, though. And everything else? School?”

“Almost done. Thank god.”

“Friends?”

“Sometimes a mess,” he says. “But amazing nonetheless.”

Leaning forward, Luhan wiggles his brows. “Lovers?”

Taeyong squawks and nearly tips over his glass. “Luhan!”

Luhan tosses his head back and laughs. When he’s calmed himself, he’s still smirking, little puffs of laughter slipping through his lips. “Come on, Tae. Tell your big brother about this next-door neighbor.”

“You’re incorrigible. Stay out of my head!”

“Hey, you disappeared for seven years and you expect me not to go poking about? What if you’re hiding something from me? You always were the kind of person to not ask for help if you needed it.”

“It’s rude.”

“You do it,” Luhan says with a shrug.

“Because I can’t stop it. And I don’t know why you’re complaining. You can block me out,” argues Taeyong. “And my neighbor is none of your business.”

Luhan catches his gaze. It happens instantly. They shift like a kaleidoscope, flashing through colors like fireworks. It’s hypnotizing and Taeyong feels himself leaning forward. His muscles relax as he falls into the changing lights in Luhan’s eyes.

Then Luhan blinks and Taeyong snaps out of it. He has half a mind to throw his drink at Luhan.

“What the hell did you just do?” he hisses, pressing his hand to his head. He knows he’ll never know until Luhan tells him. “You promised not to do that to me!”

“Relax, I didn’t shift any memories. You’re still very much intact,” he tells him with a wave of his hand. “I was checking something.”

“And you couldn’t just ask?”

“You wouldn’t have told me.”

“This is abuse of power.”

Luhan clicks his tongue. “Tell me, Taeyong, how ashamed of your powers are you?”

Taeyong freezes.

“Ah, thought so.” He wipes down the counter with a faint smile. “Look, I won’t tell you what to do. You get to make those choices on your own. Make all the mistakes you want. I’m not holding you back. But are you sure you want to handle the situation this way?”

“Sometimes you sound like Johnny.”

“I like Johnny,” he comments, easily.

Frowning, he says, “You’ve never met Johnny—You know what? Never mind. The point is, it’s not like I’m actively hiding my powers for malicious intent. I just want to make sure that he’s going to stick around and that there won’t be…judgement.”

“That’s an excuse and you know it. He’s an empath, right? The dude’s probably been through the same things you’ve been through. Don’t you think he’d be the least judgmental person you could tell? Unless he’s a complete and total ass, I mean. So, what are you actually scared of?”

Taeyong remains quiet. He finishes his drink and continues to study the smooth surface of the counter. Luhan waits for him in the silence. Even if Taeyong can’t read his mind because of the block, he knows Luhan’s following along with Taeyong’s thoughts. He wonders if they read like the mess Taeyong thinks they are.

“Whatever answer you’re looking for,” Luhan says as he taps his temple, “is in here. You’ve got it. You just don’t want to acknowledge it. Do me a favor, yeah? Don’t waste time, Taeyong. It’s not worth it.”

Taeyong sighs. “I missed you.”

“I don’t blame you. I’m amazing.”

“Modest, too.”

Luhan sticks out his tongue, silver ball in the middle of it shining in the dim light. “Don’t be a stranger, Tae. Jongin will hunt you down if you disappear for another seven years.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

*

When Taeyong gets home it’s later than he thought it would be and there are several people in his living room he doesn’t expect. They all turn to him with various expressions, though the ones of confusion stand out more than the others. There’s a rush of chaotic thoughts that bombard his mind and he nearly tumbles over because of it.

“Where the hell have you been?” Johnny demands as he stalks toward him. “I’ve been calling you for almost three and a half hours.”

Sure enough, there are several missed calls from Johnny on his screen when he looks. Plus a few from Doyoung and Jungwoo. Lots of messages, too, that range from concerned to angry. He instantly feels bad. It’s been ages since he’s spent time with Luhan and, more often than not, his blocking ability could interfere with Taeyong’s power if he isn’t paying attention.

No wonder his headache had disappeared at the club. He wonders if Luhan did it on purpose. Still, on the way home, he had heard Johnny and the others, but hadn’t really been paying attention to the words.

Johnny hugs him tight. Maybe a little too tight. “I was worried sick.”

“Where were you?” Jungwoo asks.

Taeyong finishes taking off his shoes before surveying the room. The regular crowd of Johnny, Doyoung, and Jungwoo are there. They were the ones that started the Wednesday night dinners—and oh my god he forgot it was Wednesday. No fucking wonder there were so many people. Lucas is there, as well, sitting beside his boyfriend. And Kun’s even made an appearance, which is a rarity because he’s been so busy with his studies that it’s sort of hit or miss.

But the person that gets his attention is Jaehyun. He’s on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, a frown marring his handsome face. For once, Taeyong hopes he can feel how guilty Taeyong is right now for forgetting.

“You smell like alcohol,” Johnny comments with a furrowed brow. “Are you drunk?”

“No, of course not,” Taeyong says. “I just went to see a friend. I’m fully sober now. I barely even got tipsy. I’m so sorry. I totally forgot what day it was. I’ll start the food.”

He goes to head into the kitchen, but Johnny pulls on his arm. “Don’t worry about that. We ordered pizza since it was getting late. Just…What happened?”

“Nothing. I promise. I was just visiting a friend and lost track of time and didn’t check my phone,” he replies.

“You didn’t hear us?”

Taeyong’s eyes widen, his gaze flicking to Jaehyun for a moment, before shaking his head. “No,” he presses, hoping Johnny will catch on, “my phone was on silent.”

It’s not that big of a drop, but Taeyong knows Jaehyun isn’t dumb, and any hints at his abilities are something he’d like to keep to himself until he’s ready to mention it. Johnny nods, seemingly getting what Taeyong’s trying to tell him with his eyes.

“My friend can block my power,” he mutters for only Johnny to hear.

“Ah, I see.”

Moving toward the living room to take a spot beside Jungwoo, Taeyong says, “I’m sorry for messing up the night, guys.”

“As long as you cook next time,” Lucas tells him with a wide grin. “I was looking forward to it.”

“He’s feeling guilty enough,” Jaehyun says with a chuckle, poking Lucas in the leg. It takes Taeyong a moment to make sense of the comfortable atmosphere between them. If Jaehyun knew Jungwoo, he probably knew Lucas, too. It makes him wonder why he never met Jaehyun earlier than this with all the connections he had.

“So, what were you guys doing before I got here?” he asks.

Johnny hands him a glass of water. He doesn’t need to say anything. Taeyong knows he’s worried there’s still alcohol in his system no matter how sober he seems. But Taeyong isn’t stupid enough to drive home with even a drop in him. Regardless, he takes the water because he knows Johnny will just force him to drink it if he doesn’t.

“Other than worrying about you? Not much,” Johnny says and Taeyong apologizes again. “It’s fine. Jaehyun was just telling us about growing up in America.”

Taeyong looks to Jaehyun. “You grew up in America?”

“Well, sort of,” he answers. “I lived in Connecticut for a bit, but my parents moved me back here when I was ten. To be honest, I don’t remember much about it.”

_Kind of miss it, though._

“Johnny used to live in Chicago before he moved to Korea,” Taeyong says.

Jaehyun smiles, looking to Johnny. “Yeah, we were just talking about that, actually. Chicago is where I did my exchange.”

“Will you go back to get a job there?”

Maybe if he leaves, Taeyong can save himself.

“No, I want a job in the area if I can.”

Damn it.

Johnny might as well be a telepath with the way he takes note of Taeyong’s question and gives him a smug smile. _Can’t get rid of him that easily._

The pizza arrives a few minutes later. They ordered far too much, and its greasier than Taeyong makes his, but he digs in anyway. Despite liking to make his own food, he still enjoys take-out time to time. Although, he knows the grease is going to come back to him later.

They fall into an easy conversation from there. From school to just plain life, they hit all the spots. Jaehyun tells them that Taeil ended up getting a shift, which explains his absence. But even without his roommate, he fits in easily. It shouldn’t be all that surprising. Jaehyun’s a naturally friendly person. Calmer than Lucas, yet still more active in the conversation than Doyoung.

It’s amazing, really. As Jaehyun animatedly tells a story about how he broke his arm when he was seven, Taeyong can’t find it in himself to look away. There’s a sort of power Jaehyun holds with the way he talks, the way he smiles. He’s a handsome face, sure, and his voice is smooth and captivating, but that’s not all there is. He gives off a vibe that screams he’s a safe place. Welcoming, Taeyong would say. Even when he turns silent, smiling slightly, while Jungwoo and Johnny argue about who should get the last piece of pizza.

He’s watchful and careful and Taeyong kind of likes that. He likes it a lot.

Jaehyun’s eyes meet his. When the food came, he moved to the other side of the table, just across from Taeyong. His lips curl into a crooked smile and Taeyong finds himself smiling back. It sets off a flame in his chest that he’s never felt before. It’s not a bad feeling, he thinks.

When everyone’s done inhaling all the food—Johnny and Jaehyun take most of it, though the former isn’t all that surprising—Taeyong starts cleaning up while the rest of them continue to talk. He doesn’t expect them to help and when Jungwoo offers, Taeyong waves him away. It gives him something to do. He’s never been the type to be _in_ the conversation. He generally just likes to watch it all unravel before him.

Gathering up all the glasses, he heads to the kitchen. He’s placing them in the sink when Jaehyun rounds the corner, plate in hand.

“Where do you want me to put this?” he asks.

Taeyong takes it from him. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it. You can go back.”

“Doesn’t seem very fair for you to do all the clean-up,” he comments. 

“I don’t mind so much. It gives me something to do.”

“Is it your nerves?”

Taeyong flinches.

“Sorry. Shit. I really need to stop doing that. Just ignore me.”

He goes to turn, but Taeyong grabs his arm. While most of his brain is focused on Jaehyun’s internal panic and self-berating, there’s an itty-bitty part of him that zones in on the fact that, _damn_ , Jaehyun has biceps. It sort of slaps him in a weird sort of way and he has to shake himself out of the distraction.

“It’s okay,” he mutters as he removes his hand. “Really. It’s fine.”

Jaehyun runs a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I forget. I’m so used to mentioning it to people like my family and friends that sometimes I don’t realize who I’m with. I’m really trying.”

“I know you are.” And he does know. Because Jaehyun’s tried to keep it tightlipped with him before. Even tonight he was mentally reminding himself to keep his readings to himself. It’s one thing they don’t have in common. Taeyong’s always been good at keeping things to himself, whereas Jaehyun tells it outright. Neither is particularly wrong, but it’s interesting nonetheless.

Taeyong offers him a smile and turns back to the sink, turning it on to rinse out the glasses. “And, yes, it calms my nerves. Keeps my hands busy.”

“Productive,” Jaehyun notes. “I just chew on pencils when I’m nervous. Or pens.”

“Remind me to keep my writing utensils away from you,” Taeyong jokes.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“Really, I’m good. This shouldn’t take too long, anyway. I can get the rest once people are gone.”

Jaehyun makes it to the doorway before he turns around. Taeyong catches the movement out of the corner of his eye. “Thanks for inviting me tonight, by the way.”

“No problem.” His hands are wet with suds. “I’m sorry I forgot. And I promised you food.”

Chuckling, he says, “Like Lucas said, you can just make it up for us later, right?”

“Right,” he agrees. “Sometimes I think I spoil them too much. I bet they were more worried about getting fed than where I was.”

He knows that’s not totally true. Well, Lucas was complaining in his head, but a lot of their thoughts really were worried about his whereabouts.

Jaehyun doesn’t know Taeyong knows all that, though.

“That’s not true,” he says, stepping back into the room. He keeps his distance, however, standing just a couple feet away. Doesn’t make it any easier on Taeyong, of course, who’s trying to focus on the dishes and not the way his heart beats for Jaehyun. For pity sake, he should not be this far gone at this point. Jaehyun leans against the counter. “They care about you. You should have seen them freaking out when you didn’t answer their calls. And that’s not me being an empath. That’s entirely based on their actions. Although, as an empath it was quite a whirlwind to walk into.”

“I can imagine.” He thinks it’s probably much like the bombardment he got when he walked through the door.

“You have a lot of good friends. You’re lucky.”

Taeyong chances a look and finds Jaehyun only a step away. His eyes are bright and his smile warm and it does things to him. It does and he doesn’t know how to stop it.

He grabs the rag from the side and starts to dry off one of the glasses as he turns to face Jaehyun. In all honesty, it’s not as close as they had come to be before, but it’s still enough to be a distraction. Taeyong wonders if he should be glad that Jaehyun seems to be struggling with the proximity as well.

“Yeah, I did get kind of lucky,” he says.

“How did you all meet?”

“I met Johnny when I got to high school. Doyoung a few months after that since we shared science. Jungwoo’s younger than us and we met him when he was a freshman. And Kun we met in university. Mainly because he lives in the same building and we just sort of hit it off. Everyone else has been through one of them. Partners, friends, family. We all link together in a very odd sort of web.”

“I’m kind of jealous. I don’t have many people I hang out with outside of school, you know? Classmates and work buddies. It’s nice to actually do something that’s not school or work related with people who will talk about more than just blueprints and sketches.”

Taeyong hums. “They’re certainly all over the place. It’s hard to keep up sometimes.”

“Honestly, I’m impressed. I’ve only been here a few hours and I don’t know how you do it on the daily. But it sure as hell seems fun to try.”

“Feel free to take any one of them,” he quips. “Please. Take them away from me.”

“Well, I can’t promise you that. But if you ever feel overwhelmed, feel free to send them my way. I can distract while you run.”

“I’m taking you up on that.”

The awkwardness isn’t as bad anymore, Taeyong notes. It’s still there, but he knows that’s mostly because he, himself, is a bit awkward. Other than that, it’s sort of amazing how calm it feels, as well. Turns out, Jaehyun’s easy to talk to.

_Okay, here it goes. Do not mess this up, Jaehyun. Don’t be a loser._

Without meaning to, Taeyong tilts his head at the thoughts. He hopes Jaehyun doesn’t read too much into the motion. In one respect, he doesn’t want to underestimate Jaehyun’s ability of deduction—he knows Taeyong has a power and there’s no way he’s not trying to figure it out—but, on the other hand, he doesn’t want to overestimate him and make an even bigger mistake by over-compensating. It’s definitely a dance Taeyong wants to stop doing.

A little voice in his head tells him that if he just told Jaehyun his power, he wouldn’t need to hide at all.

He watches as Jaehyun’s ears turn pink, the way he shifts his weight onto his other foot and studies the ground. He’s nervous and Taeyong is trying to figure out why, but all he’s getting is Jaehyun prepping himself up. Which is somewhat adorable, except not the point.

“I actually wanted to ask you something,” he starts, eyes flicking up to finally look at Taeyong. “This Saturday. What are you doing?”

_So many ways to ask this question and you went for that?_

Taeyong’s hands stop drying the glass. “Um, nothing. I don’t think I’m doing anything.”

_Come on. Just rip off the Band-Aid._

“Well, you see,” he says, slowly, “I promised Jaemin’s parents I would take him to the carnival Saturday night. They think he needs a chaperone with Jeno.” Taeyong snorts and it earns him a smile. “I’m not really going to follow them around. Seems sort of pointless. It’s not like they’re going to get freaky in public. At least I hope not.”

“Oh, please, don’t ever mention Jaemin and Jeno getting freaky in public.” His nose wrinkles.

Jaehyun laughs. “Sorry. Sorry. What I mean to say is, would you want to come with me? I have to go because I promised. Let’s face it, they’re going to ditch me and I’m not going to follow. So, would you want to keep me company?”

Taeyong’s not sure at what point his heart started hammering against his chest. He’s not sure why there’s a taste of thrill on the back of his tongue. Lord knows, he’s more terrified than anything else. Being asked out may not be a new occurrence, but being asked out by the cute guy next door is a bit different.

_And he’s going to say no._

He catches the thought between his own internal monologue and instantly he shakes his head. Of course, Jaehyun immediately takes that as a rejection and, even though it stays on his face, his smile saddens. He’s about to say something, to backtrack, when Taeyong blurts, “Like a date?”

 _Wow, Taeyong. Wow._ He can hear Johnny’s voice even though he’s in the living room, contemplating how to make Lucas go to the convenience store with him to get snacks because he doesn’t want to go alone.

“Um.” Jaehyun seems at a loss for words. Inside his head and out. He blinks at Taeyong, mind turning over the question. Then, a small laugh bubbles out of him. “Sure. I mean, if you want it to be. I’m not,” he clears his throat, “not against that.”

“Oh.”

“Unless I read this,” he gestures between the two of them, cheeks matching his ears, “all wrong.”

Taeyong’s grip tightens on the glass and rag. Crap. _Shit_. Now his tongue doesn’t want to work. Neither does his brain. Sounds are escaping him, but they aren’t forming words and, in the end, he snaps his lips together to stop himself from making an even bigger fool of himself than he already was.

“I—Um, no. I mean, not really—it’s just that I’m, um, not good at this kind of thing. Sorry.” He fights the urge to bury his face in his hands because he knows he’s red in the face if the heat in his cheeks is anything to go by. But, with the stuff in his hands, the only thing he can do is look down, letting his hair block his eyes in a red curtain.

“If it makes you feel better,” Jaehyun says, “I’m not that good at it either.”

Taeyong’s eyes snap up. “You?”

“Why the tone? Is it really that surprising?” he asks, grinning.

“It’s just you’re…”

“I’m?”

“Ridiculously good looking,” Taeyong blurts.

The smile grows, revealing his dimples and perfect teeth. Taeyong wondered if he was one of those people blessed with straight teeth because he sure seemed like the type to be that lucky.

_At least he’s finds me attractive. That’s a win, right?_

“Unfortunately, my looks don’t get me everything. Besides, I’m kind of picky, I guess. Well, maybe that’s not the best term, but I don’t date often. I guess you could say I’m careful with who I choose to go out with. Especially with my kind of power.”

Taeyong knows what that’s like. “I understand. That makes sense.”

“So, um, are you okay with that then? Coming with me on Saturday? I’ll buy the tickets,” he offers, hesitantly. Taeyong hates how his thoughts fall regretful, as if Taeyong’s already rejected him and he’s trying to calm himself from being disappointed.

“I’ll buy the cotton candy,” he offers and Jaehyun’s smile brightens. “I have to tell you, though; I’m not much of a ride person. I tend to stick to the booths.”

“That’s fine. We’ll create our fun by trying to win stuffies in rigged, over-priced booths.”

Taeyong snorts. “Deal.”

It’s hard to ignore the way heat pools in his stomach when Jaehyun looks at him. Like a mini fire’s started itself up inside him and he has no way to put it out. It curls through his body, sinking down to his toes and sparking to his fingertips. While it might not be something Taeyong’s used to, it’s not exactly unwelcome, he guesses.

“Here, let me help,” Jaehyun says as he reaches for the class in Taeyong’s hand.

Except, Taeyong’s not prepared and he flinches the moment Jaehyun’s fingers touch him. The glass slips from his grasp, shattering on the floor in a thundering smash.

“Taeyong?” Johnny calls from the living room.

“Don’t move,” Jaehyun warns. “I can—Taeyong? Taeyong, you okay?”

He feels cold. It washes over him instantly, causing his body to tremble uncontrollably. Pieces of broken glass settle around his feet. In the light of the room, they shine like crystals. They glitter behind his eyelids when he squeezes his eyes. Reaching back, he grips onto the edge of the counter.

Breathing. He needs to remember how to breathe. He needs to calm himself because the pounding of his heart hurts. He sees the furrowing of a brow, the lift of a hand, the shout of a voice. His legs nearly give out, but strong hands are on his arms, keeping him upright.

“Taeyong. Can you hear me? Tae?”

It’s Johnny’s voice, right at his ear, and Taeyong reaches out with his mind to grasp onto something familiar. Anything to keep him sane. He can’t do this in front of Jaehyun. He can’t.

_Breath, bro. We got you. You’re here with us, okay? Just listen to my voice._

Taeyong latches onto each word, letting Johnny lure him out of his panic. When he finally opens his eyes, Doyoung is at the doorway and Jaehyun has a dustpan he’s emptying out into the garbage. The sound of glass hitting the bottom fills the room. Done, he passes the broom and dustpan to Doyoung, who takes it away to put into the linen closet behind him.

“Here.”

A glass of water is put into his line of vision. He takes it with shaky hands.

Johnny rubs at his back. “Sip slowly. How you feeling?”

“Fine,” he croaks. “I’m fine. I’m sorry. I should have cleaned it up. It was my fault and—”

Jaehyun’s voice cuts through his. “Taeyong, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Why don’t you go lay down?” Johnny suggests.

Shaking his head, Taeyong turns to the other glasses in the sink. “No, I should finish this and I’ll be alright now. It won’t take long, I promise.”

“Taeyong,” Johnny catches his arm. “Go lay down. We can take it from here and everyone will understand. Please.”

It takes a bit more time for Taeyong to finally stop shaking and when he does, he nods, allowing Johnny to lead him out of the kitchen. He shoots Jungwoo, Kun, and Lucas an apologetic smile before glancing over his shoulder at Jaehyun.

Jaehyun watches him from the end of the couch with the corner of his lips curls just slightly as he thinks, _I hope he’ll be okay and get some rest_.

Taeyong doesn’t think that’s such a bad idea. He waves at them all and ducks into his room. The worried thoughts don’t stop even as he climbs into bed. Slipping his head under the pillow, he tries to block out the way Johnny keeps thinking about what to tell Jaehyun and how Jaehyun keeps wondering what he can do to fix the situation, as if it’s his fault.

Something wet drips onto his hand and Taeyong realizes he’s crying. Tears slip through his lashes and wet his sheets. They burn the back of his eyes as a sob ripples through his body. He bites his hand to stop himself from making any noise.

He hopes Jaehyun can’t feel this. He hopes Jaehyun won’t ask.

Curling around the pillow, Taeyong thinks he needs to fix this. He can’t keep this up anymore. It’s becoming bothersome. To himself and to his friends. The fabric of the pillow is soft and wet as he presses his face into it.

One day, he thinks. One day it’ll get better.

He hopes.

*

Taeyong finds out Johnny gave Jaehyun his number the next day when he’s finally awake enough to drag himself out of bed. He’s not mad about it. In all honesty, he should have made the number exchange earlier, but it had never crossed his mind and, surprisingly, Jaehyun never asked. Then again, they live right next door to each other, so what was the point.

Needless to say, it’s shocking to have a text from Jaehyun the next day, asking if he’s okay. He replies he is and promises to make up for the disaster that was last night.

It’s a thing now. The texting. Jaehyun isn’t always the most consistent with answering, but Taeyong’s also not always free to check his phone, so it works out in a weird sort of way. And the conversations vary from school to work to friends to whatever else they have on their mind. Taeyong finds it easy to talk to Jaehyun. It’s like they’ve been friends for a lot longer than they really have.

Texting is also a lot less awkward. Taeyong can actually go back and edit what he wants to say instead of stumbling through it and looking like a dork. That’s a nice change.

Jaehyun even asks him again if he’s fine to go out on Saturday, but he never asks about what happened in the kitchen. In fact, Jaehyun doesn’t really ask him personal questions at all. He hasn’t tried to inquire about Taeyong’s power, he doesn’t ask about Taeyong’s family. And, in person, he never thinks about asking those things.

It’s nice not having to explain.

And it’s nice to have a normal conversation with someone without them constantly watching what they’re thinking. Or even purposefully talk to him through thoughts.

Maybe that’s selfish—okay, it’s a lot selfish—but Taeyong craves it and it’s so hard to let it go.

“You should tell him tonight,” Johnny says as he pulls on his boots. He’s got his camera bag swung over his shoulder and a baseball cap Taeyong’s pretty sure is Doyoung’s on his head. He grabs his jacket. “Seriously, Taeyong.”

“I know I should,” he mutters. He hovers at the end of the hallway, hair wet from his shower. He hasn’t even bothered to put on a shirt, knowing he’s going to be changing in a few minutes, anyway.

Johnny sighs. “This can’t keep going on. It’ll blow up in your face if you don’t.”

Deep down, he knows Johnny’s right. But what’s another night? Does it have to be so soon?

“And maybe,” Johnny pauses, staring at the wall as his brain searches for words, “you should see a therapist.”

“I’m sorry?”

“A therapist, Tae. The people you see when you have problems to work through? The ones I keep trying to convince you to go talk to for the three years. Maybe even more.”

Taeyong looks down at his bare feet. “No.”

“Just think about it, okay?”

“I don’t want to, Johnny. Never have, never will. I don’t want to unload my miserable life onto anyone. I didn’t even want to do that for you and Doyoung. You guys practically dragged it out of me.”

“We did not.”

Taeyong glares at him. “You sat on me. Besides, I don’t need one.”

“You don’t think having nightmares and panic attacks don’t warrant seeing someone?”

“I can handle it.”

“But you haven’t,” Johnny snaps. Taeyong flinches. “I’m sorry, but you haven’t been handling it. You’ve been burying it. And that isn’t healthy, Tae. I know you don’t like therapists. I know you don’t like thinking you’re a burden. But you can’t keep living like this. Just…please, think about it.”

“Fine.”

He’s not going to, though. And Johnny might realize that because he sighs and shakes his head as if he can read Taeyong’s mind, his stubbornness. It’s a talk they’ve had a few times over the last several years, one that Taeyong keeps trying to dodge and forget about.

He locks the door behind Johnny and heads to his room. He has a good hour before Jaehyun comes by to grab him. There’s a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he’s also kind of excited. He hasn’t been to a carnival in years. Mostly because of the amount of people. However, he’s gotten a better handle on his powers since the last time he went and he’s hoping that, perhaps, he’ll make it through tonight without any serious issues.

Fingers crossed.

He’s trying on his third shirt when he picks up some familiar thoughts. The door is open before Mark can even knock.

“What are you doing here?” Taeyong asks, letting Mark in.

Mark kicks off his shoes. His shoulders are hunched, his eyes red. When he catches Taeyong’s gaze, it’s like opening a tap. His lower lip wobbles and the tears start before Taeyong can even blink. Mark throws himself into Taeyong’s arms and buries his face into the crook of his neck, body trembling.

“I hate him,” he says into the fabric of Taeyong’s shirt. “I hate him so much.”

“Oh, Mark.” Taeyong hugs him tighter, eyes flicking up to the ceiling as images flood his mind—golden light, hands intertwined, lips that never quite make it to their destination—and he sighs. “No, you don’t.”

“No,” he whimpers. His fingers grasp, demanding an anchor. “No, I don’t.”

It was bound to happen, he thinks. He just never wanted it to. He had hoped it wouldn’t turn out this way because Mark didn’t deserve it.

Over the years, Taeyong’s wondered if he should step in, say something, help somehow. But he’s always known he can’t. Feelings and relationships were meant to be done without tampering. People need to learn to make their own mistakes.

That doesn’t make it any easier, especially while he holds Mark’s sobbing frame in his arms.

After a few minutes, Mark finally pulls away, rubbing at his eyes until they’re even redder than they were before. He’s taking deep breaths, staring into the light, and trying to calm himself. It isn’t often that Mark cries. It takes a lot to get him to break down. And when he does, he hates it. Hates himself for it.

_Calm down. Calm down. God damn it, stop crying. Stop it._

“Crying doesn’t make you any less of a person,” Taeyong tells him, slipping his arm through Mark’s and leading him toward the bedroom. “You know that.”

“Still hate it. Makes me feel weak.”

“Mark, you’re anything but weak.”

Mark scoffs, dropping onto Taeyong’s bed and grumbling, “I don’t know. Tonight would argue that statement.”

Heading back to the closet, Taeyong says, “You aren’t weak. You’re in love. There’s a difference.”

“Who said I was in love?”

Taeyong casts him an unimpressed look and Mark snatches up a pillow, pressing it flat to his face, and screams into it. Sighing, Taeyong walks over and tugs it out of his grasp—with some difficulty—and lightly hits him on the stomach with it.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he chastises. “Talk to me. What else am I here for?”

“To read my mind so I don’t have to talk about it,” Mark mutters and Taeyong hits him with the pillow again. “Stop that!”

“Then start talking. I want to hear what happened from your own mouth. And don’t you dare say you’re fine because you and I both know you’re not.”

They rest in silence for a moment before Mark pulls himself up into a sitting position. His fingers fumble together in his lap as if he’s not sure what to do with them. “I don’t really know what happened. We were talking and then he—Tae, I’m not ever going to be able to be with him, am I? He doesn’t like me like that and I’m just wasting my time, aren’t I? Leave it to me to fall for someone emotionally unavailable. Or just untouchable, in general.”

Taeyong perches himself on the end of the bed. Putting his arm around Mark’s shoulders, he shuffles closer and Mark rests his head on his shoulder. Tears cling to his eyelashes, but they never fall.

_I love him._

“I know,” he whispers, hold tightening.

_And I hate myself for it._

“You can’t help who you fall for, Mark. You know that. I’m so sorry. I really am.”

Mark inhales deeply and leans back, out of Taeyong’s arms, and steals himself. He shakes out his hair and straightens his shoulders. He’s trying to act like he’s fine. Taeyong’s seen it more times than he’d like to admit. Casting a watery smile, Mark says, “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should have known, honestly. It’s been years and…I mean, after what happened, I just should have known. I’m an idiot.”

“You are not,” Taeyong says. “You’re nowhere close to that. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but it’ll get better. You guys are best friends. There’s no way it won’t.”

“Being best friends makes it worse. This could be it, Tae. What if he can’t get over the fact that his best friend is in love with him? That can’t be easy to live with. And I don’t know if I can live with it.”

“You aren’t seriously considering just ditching him, are you?” he asks, but he knows Mark is. He can read the thoughts.

“Ditching is harsh,” Mark says. “Just time away? A break? I don’t know. It’ll be hard for him, but, Tae, think of how hard it is for me? I spent years playing with the idea he might possibly like me back and now he’s basically said he never will. I need to move on. Maybe it’s a blessing I’m graduating before he is. I can spend time working and figuring things out.”

Taeyong bites his lip. “You know he’s not going to like that, right? He’ll come find you.”

A little laugh escapes Mark. It’s weak and sad and it hurts Taeyong’s heart. “I know he will. It’s an option, anyway. I have to do what’s best for me, right?”

_Even though I don’t want to._

Taeyong gives him a smile, but Mark isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s gazing around the room, spotting the disarray of Taeyong’s closet and the pile of clothes on his bed. Okay, so he might have started to panic a bit about what to wear tonight.

“Are you going somewhere? Or are you just redoing your wardrobe?” He picks up a shirt that Taeyong only really deems necessary for fancy dinners. “Wait, are you going on a date?”

Mark’s eyes are wide and it’s almost a little funny the startled, confused sort of expression he’s sporting as he stares Taeyong down, shirt still in his hands. Taeyong shrugs.

“Oh my god, with who? Who did you land? You never go on dates. This is big. This is big, right? Here I am crying over my pathetic love life and you’re going on a date!”

“You’re love life isn’t pathetic,” Taeyong says, yanking the shirt away. “It’s complicated. And it’s not that big of a deal, okay? He just asked me to join him at the carnival.”

“Wait,” Mark holds up his hands, brow furrowed. “Wait a moment. Hold up. Are you the date Jaehyun’s taking? You’re dating Jaehyun?”

“I’m not _dating_ him. I’m going on a date. I think? It’s a little fuzzy, to be perfectly honest.”

“And yet you’ve blown up your room searching for an outfit.”

Taeyong throws up his arms. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing. The last time I went on a date it was a year ago and it was set up by Doyoung. He didn’t even tell me I was going on a date. Sneaky bugger slipped it past me somehow.”

Mark eyeballs the closet. “It’s a carnival, not a high-priced restaurant. Just wear something easy. Jeans and a t-shirt. Wear that black jacket you keep in the back of your closet. The one you only wear to dinners with your uncle because you say it’s too expensive.”

“It _is_ too expensive,” he says. “I’m not wearing that.”

“Why not? It’s a nice jacket and it’s meant to be worn. Plus, it’s an important time. You’re going on a _date_.”

Jumping up from the bed, Mark rushes to the closet, digs into the back, and pulls out the black jacket. It’s designer. Or, at least, that’s what his uncle told him. He’s inclined to believe him, though, because it feels expensive. The fabric is thick, the cut clean. Buckles rest around the wrists and a belt is built into the waist of it. It doesn’t look fancy, but it sure feels like it.

But maybe Mark has a point. He hardly wears it and it’s kind of a special night. Kind of.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Taeyong asks as he slips out of his shirt and grabs the next graphic tee in the pile. It’ll have to do.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I want to say ‘yes’, but no. I don’t think I am. But I will be. I mean, it can’t get much worse, right?”

Taeyong shrugs on the jacket and says, “If you need anything, just let me know. Do you want to stay here? You can hide out in my room. Doyoung and Johnny will be home in a couple of hours. And I don’t think I’ll be out that late.”

“No, it’s okay. I should go home.” He checks his phone. “I’ll do some homework and try to forget that my life sucks.”

“Your life doesn’t suck, Mark. It’s just going through a rough patch. Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? Things _will_ work out.”

“Are you saying that because you know or because it’s an expected thing to say?”

Taeyong turns to his mirror to fluff his hair. It’s almost dry and he’s not even going to bother with it. The wind will just destroy any effort he puts in. “I’m not going to answer that.”

“Sometimes, you’re a pain in the ass.”

“I know. You love me, anyway.”

“You look good. Not that it matters. You always look good, and, according to Jaemin, Jaehyun’s noticed.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he says, “Lovely. Because I want to be liked for just my looks.”

“He doesn’t just like you because of your looks. It’s just a bonus. Jaehyun doesn’t talk much to Jaemin about it, but he did say he thought you were one of the sweetest people he’s ever met. Even though you’re a bit stressed.” Mark tilts his head. “Does he know? About your power?”

“No.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Eventually.”

“I’m assuming Johnny’s already told you, but,” Mark pauses, “you need to tell him. That’s kind of important. Don’t you think?”

“I know. I’ll tell him. I will. Later. I just want to get through tonight first.”

“And then you’ll want to get through the next day and the day after that and the day after that. I know you, Tae. Do you really want to prolong this? How do you think he’s going to feel when he finds out you’ve been reading his mind since you met him? Not going to lie, but I’d be a little ticked off.”

“I always wait a bit.” The excuse is starting to sound worn.

“You don’t usually go on dates with those people.”

“I know,” he repeats. “I know. I just…It’s nice, Mark. It’s really nice.”

“What is?”

“Not having him censor himself,” he admits. “Not having to worry. I can act like I don’t have this stupid ability and it’s nice. It’s wonderful.”

Mark’s brows furrow. “I know it is, but, Tae, you _do_ have this power. It’s not going to go away. You can pretend it doesn’t exist, but it does. And he’s going to find out eventually with or without your help.”

Taeyong gives him a small smile. “When did you grow up?”

“When I got my heart ripped out and smashed into a bunch of little pieces?” Mark guesses. He’s trying to joke, but it falls flat and he knows it. In the end, he rubs his face and says, “Just think about it?”

“I will. I promise.”

There’s a knock on the front door and they both turn toward the sound. His stomach drops. Here it comes.

“I think you need to answer the door,” Mark whispers, eyes full of mirth.

Taeyong sweeps up the pillow and smacks Mark in the head with it. “Get out of my apartment, smartass.”

“I’m not answering the door!” There’s another knock. “Dude, hurry up.”

The two of them head to the tiny foyer. After wiping his sweating hands on his pants, he opens the door. Honestly, he shouldn’t be surprised. He really shouldn’t. Jaehyun’s always looked good, but tonight he somehow glows and Taeyong feels just a little bit inadequate.

His white t-shirt is bright against his dark bomber jacket. He’s spiked up the front of his brown hair as well, as if showing off more of his perfect face was needed for Taeyong’s heart. Not to mentioned the ripped jeans that show slivers of the skin on his thighs. Nope. Taeyong’s not okay.

“Hey,” Jaehyun greets, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His dark eyes drag over Taeyong’s frame from top to bottom and then back again. “You look great.”

_He looks amazing. Bet he’d look great in a paper bag._

Taeyong’s not sure how words work anymore. He’s starting to think he should have fixed his hair. Then again, Jaehyun seems to have nothing but praise about his appearance, so he tries not to think too much about it.

“Um, you—you look nice, too. R-Really nice,” he stutters.

“Thank you.” Jaehyun grins. His gaze shoots over Taeyong’s shoulder. “Mark? Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Just, you know, hanging out. I’ll be going now.” He leans into Taeyong to whisper, “Have fun on your date.”

He fights the urge to hit his arm as Mark skirts past. He’s made it to the hallway when Jaehyun asks, “Did you want to come? I’m picking up Jaemin and Jeno. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind an extra person.”

“Oh,” Mark blinks. “No. No, that’s okay. Thank you, though. I really don’t want to be a third wheel. Or, well, fifth wheel, really.”

“Why don’t you invite—” But he cuts off when he glances at Taeyong, who shakes his head as subtly as possible. Coincidentally, Mark isn’t looking at either of them, but flicking his attention down the hallway, thinking of ways to bow out for Taeyong’s sake. Jaehyun clears his throat. “Um, did you need a ride?”

Mark shakes his head, attention back on Jaehyun. “I brought my dad’s car. I’ll be fine. Have fun, you two. Don’t get into too much trouble.” When Jaehyun smiles at Taeyong, Mark thinks, _I like him, Tae. Keep him._ “Bye!”

“Well,” Jaehyun says after a brief moment of silence, “you ready to go then?”

Taeyong nods. He grabs his keys from the hook and follows Jaehyun to the parking lot. By the time they get there, Mark is gone and his thoughts are faint in the back of Taeyong’s mind. They make their way to Jaehyun’s SUV.

“Is Mark okay?” Jaehyun asks as he starts up the car. “He seemed a bit…Well, he seemed a bit sad? Did he fight with Donghyuck or something?”

It’s weird, in a way, how Jaehyun knows about Jaemin’s friends and yet Taeyong’s never met him. It’s like they were always in orbit, but never colliding. Until a few weeks ago, anyway.

“It wasn’t really a fight,” Taeyong tells him. “How much do you know about Mark?”

“Not much, to be honest. Just what Jaemin’s told me about him. And how him and Donghyuck have been dancing around each other since middle school. That’s crazy,” Jaehyun says. “Middle school?”

Nodding, he says, “Mark’s basically been in love with Donghyuck since he met him. And Donghyuck, he…he’s a different sort of story. I guess they had a discussion tonight that, um, disrupted some things.”

“Ah.” Jaehyun turns out of the parking lot, worrying his bottom lip. “I hope things work out for them.”

“I doubt they’ll be like this for long. They’re best friends. And kind of like magnets. They may bicker, but they end up gravitating back to each other, in the end.”

Of course, it’s true. Taeyong’s seen Donghyuck and Mark almost come to blows before, but the next day it’s like a switch has been flipped and they’re back to being friends as if nothing ever happened. Neither one of them can stay mad at each other for long. Even if Donghyuck knows how to hold a grudge, he can never do that to Mark.

Still, it’s worrying. This is unlike anything they’ve ever gone through. Taeyong had faith, but faith only took things so far.

“You worry a lot, you know that?”

He tears his eyes from the road to look at Jaehyun. The words weren’t harsh, at all. They were lilted with jollity.

“Kind of hard to stop,” he admits. “There’s a lot of things to worry about.”

Jaehyun straightens a bit more, and casts him a smile. “Not tonight there aren’t. We’re going to take your mind off it.”

“And how are we going to do that?”

“Cotton candy and rigged games,” Jaehyun tells him, bouncing in his seat. “Oh, there’s Jaemin.” As the car pulls up to the curb, Jaehyun puts down the window, and yells, “Hey, brat, stop trying to eat your boyfriend’s face and get in!”

The two teens jump apart. Jaemin doesn’t seem all that bothered, while Jeno at least looks a bit embarrassed about getting caught. They slide into the back seat from either side before linking hands. It makes Taeyong’s heart leap when he spots the gesture and hears just how much they think about each other.

Ah, young love.

“Hey, Taeyong,” Jaemin greets. “So, Jaehyun finally got you to say yes, huh?”

“Shut it, kiddo. And do up your seatbelt.”

Jaemin throws himself back. “What? You complained enough. He complained a _lot_. He really wanted to ask you to come and—”

“Yes! Thank you, Jaemin.” _Just wait until I get my hands on you._ “Are you laughing at me?”

Taeyong snorts into his hand, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

It shouldn’t be funny because Taeyong was just as nervous about agreeing as Jaehyun was about asking. That being said, hearing about how he was panicking to Jaemin is kind of charming. Just how long had he been planning to ask?

“You’re a horrible liar,” Jaehyun states, but he’s smiling, and Taeyong can’t help the chuckle that boils up out of him. “Oh, shut up.”

Before Taeyong can say anything, Jaemin’s talking again. “It doesn’t help that you’re a walking lie detector.”

_You both are._

Taeyong’s eyes widen before catching Jaemin’s gaze in the mirror.

 _Don’t worry_ , Jaemin sends him. _Mark texted me earlier, so I didn’t slip up. But you better tell him soon._

Giving a subtle nod, Taeyong looks out the window.

Jaemin says, “You know, I’m glad he asked you to come. Jaehyun needs to get out more. He spends all his time either at the gym or buried under art supplies.”

“According to Mark, Taeyong isn’t much better,” Jeno adds.

Taeyong frowns. “Jeno, you used to be my favourite.”

“I’m telling Mark that.”

The lights of the carnival are bright. So bright that they can be seen from blocks away. As it draws closer, Taeyong tries to remember the last time he went to a carnival or fair. He must have been eight. His uncle and his then-wife took him. There’s not much he remembers about it other than he liked the hot dogs and he threw up after going on the rollercoaster.

Here’s hoping he can stay as far from the rollercoasters as possible.

They pull into the parking lot, Jaehyun and Jaemin bickering like siblings instead of just cousins. When they’re out of the car, Jeno and Taeyong share a look, grins pulling at their lips. They end up following behind the cousins until they reach the ticket booths.

Like he said, Jaehyun pays for Taeyong’s ticket, making sure to say—rather loudly—that, “You promised me cotton candy.”

Taeyong raises a brow. “I did, yes.”

“Great!”

Jaemin pays for Jeno, and Taeyong isn’t at all surprised that they seem to have the same sort of deal. Jaemin’s already listing off all the food he wants to eat. Jeno’s getting paler at the thought of the loss of his money.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Jaehyun says as they step through the entrance arch. “You can do whatever you want and I’ll leave you alone. Just keep safe and have your phone on. We don’t tell your parents I let you wander. Deal?”

“Deal,” Jaemin agrees. He starts tugging Jeno into the crowd. “Have a good date!”

“We meet back at ten! Do you hear me? Jae—Jaemin? Jaemin! Ten o’clock, you—And he’s gone.” Jaehyun sighs. “Well, then. Cotton candy?” Shaking his head, Taeyong starts after Jaehyun, who’s making a beeline for the snack booth. “I want the blue one.”

“You’re secretly a child at heart, aren’t you?” Taeyong asks as he hands over a twenty to the person inside the booth. Jaehyun is quick to snatch up the cotton candy before Taeyong’s even gotten his change back. “Good?”

_It’s heaven. Fluffy heaven._

“Want some?”

“Oh, you’re actually going to share?”

Jaehyun grins before shoving more into his mouth. “I never said I wasn’t.”

They end up sharing the bag, wandering through the clusters of people. To his surprise, the inner voices aren’t as bad as he expects them to be. He passes a group of teenagers and winces when their thoughts ring loud in his mind, but it’s bearable and Taeyong tries to focus on Jaehyun’s thoughts instead. They flit around between the carnival and Taeyong and the cotton candy.

It isn’t until they wander past the lines of game booths that Taeyong catches one particular thought in Jaehyun’s head that’s prevalent. It makes him double-take and sneak a peek at Jaehyun, who’s busy sticking his hand into the depths of the plastic bag to get what little is left of the cotton candy. His fingers are covered in blue floss, sticky and crystalized.

_Don’t be a baby, Jaehyun. Come on. It’s just holding hands. It’s not that hard. Of course, you’re now covered in cotton candy, so that’s a bit of an issue, but…Find a place that sells water. Ah!_

Jaehyun’s eyes connect with another snack booth. “Hey, give me a second? I’ll be right back.”

Before Taeyong can even nod, Jaehyun’s rushing over to purchase a bottle of water. Taeyong links his fingers together behind his back and tries to stay calm. Jaehyun’s right. It’s just holding hands. And they’re on a date. It’s not like it’s a surprise move. It’s sort of expected. But, man, it’s suddenly feeling like the most daunting things Taeyong’s ever faced.

He makes sure to school his face when Jaehyun jogs back, hands the cotton candy bag over to him and then proceeds to pour the water over his fingers to clean them off. He notices Taeyong watching and grins.

“You don’t want to finish it?” Taeyong asks, eyeing the bag. There’s only a bit left. Less than a handful.

Jaehyun shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll keep it for later.” He puts the cap on the bottle and wipes his hands on his jeans, leaving streaks of wetness. “Which booth do you want to do first?”

“You pick. I’m not fussy.”

“Start at the end and work our way down?” he suggests and Taeyong nods in agreement. “This way then, my sir.”

His hand is out, barely wet anymore, and Taeyong hesitates before taking hold of it. Jaehyun threads their fingers together and tugs him happily toward one of the booths. Taeyong sort of feels like he’s back in high school, all butterflies and inexperienced. Jaehyun makes him jittery.

The water guns and the ball toss are quickly ditched after the first try. Both are so rigged that Jaehyun curses when he loses, but mostly because he thought he could outsmart the game. It gets even more interesting when they end up at a fishing booth. Jaehyun’s hovering over a small pool with mechanical fish and a fishing rod the size of his forearm with a magnet attached. Beside him, is a small boy, who seems to have the trick down. By the little boy’s fifth fish and ever-growing smug smirk when Jaehyun can’t catch anything, Taeyong steps in.

“We should try something else,” he suggests.

“Not until I get one.” Jaehyun glares at the boy when he wins another round. _Spawn of Satan. I’ll show you…_

Trying to control his smile, Taeyong says, “He’s just a kid, Jaehyun.”

“He’s evil, I tell you.”

“You haven’t met Donghyuck then. Come on. I think I can take you on this next one. I’ve got pretty good aim.”

That gets Jaehyun to drop the fishing rod, shoot one last glower at the little boy, and follow to the next booth.

Taeyong finds this Jaehyun interesting. A little less controlled. More comfortable then Taeyong’s seen him.

By the sixth booth, Jaehyun’s laid a challenge down and Taeyong’s not one to back out. Especially since it’s darts. He laughs when he hits all five targets and Jaehyun’s darts end up closer to the booth runner than the actual bullseye. He ends up winning a small stuffed dog—at least he thinks it’s a dog because the ears are a little off kilter and the nose isn’t quite center—and holds it out to Jaehyun.

“For me?”

Taeyong nods. “For paying for the games.”

“Thank you.” He sounds breathless, a little shocked, and Taeyong tilts his head at the tone. Jaehyun takes the dog in his hands and stares at it as if he can’t figure out where it appeared from.

_He’s so sweet._

Taeyong fights a smile. It’s a poorly made stuffed dog. He doesn’t think it’s that magical, but it’s cute that Jaehyun does. He tugs Jaehyun toward one of the booths at the other end and halts.

Jaehyun instantly brightens. “Hold my dog?”

It turns out Jaehyun isn’t on the varsity basketball team for nothing. Even on a rigged game, he makes all the baskets. Taeyong’s watched Mark play. He knows skill. That being said, Jaehyun clearly has some years on him. His tosses are effortless and even when he makes a show using one hand, he makes the shot. The guy in the booth is seemingly both distraught and impressed.

“Such a show off,” Taeyong mutters and Jaehyun laughs. “Think you can do it with your eyes closed?”

“I can’t tell if you’re challenging me or making fun of me.”

“A little of both.”

“I figured.” Jaehyun closes his eyes and takes the shot. Nothing but net. “Apparently, I can.”

The wink Taeyong gets makes his cheeks warm and he hugs the stuffed dog closer. He wants to dig his face in the fuzzy fabric and never come out. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get that chance because Jaehyun nudges his arm and holds up a giant, lime green dragon the size of his torso with the biggest grin Taeyong’s seen on his face since he met him.

Taeyong stares at the eyes of the dragon before glancing at Jaehyun with a tilt of his head. Wiggling the stuffy, Jaehyun says, “Trade you.”

As they switch, Taeyong comments, “My dog seems like nothing compared to this.”

“Are you kidding me? Don’t make fun of Fido like that. I love him.” Jaehyun covers the dog’s ears as if it can hear them. “Shh, he didn’t mean that.”

“You’re so weird.”

“You don’t seem to hate it, though,” Jaehyun points out.

Perhaps, he has a point. Taeyong likes this Jaehyun. Less awkward, more himself. A little silly, but still a bit reserved, and all-around entertaining in a soft sort of way. His heart leaps when Jaehyun smoothly takes his hand again and drifts them through the crowd.

Jaehyun’s happy. So happy. His thoughts are like fireworks, bright and sudden. He likes holding Taeyong’s hand, likes spending time with him, and never do his thoughts stray to anything but the date and how to make it comfortable.

Taeyong wonders if the stress that generally accompanies him is still there despite the fact that he hasn’t thought about it for the last hour and a half. He wonders if that’s what makes Jaehyun so determined to make sure he has a good time.

Either way, it’s sweet and it makes the butterflies flutter like a storm in his stomach.

The sun settles on the horizon, lighting the sky in a swash of orange and blue and pink. It’s so pretty that Taeyong can’t take his eyes off it as they weave toward one of the benches to finally sit down. Jaehyun goes off to get them each a hot dog.

He can’t remember the last time he was able to sit back and enjoy something like a sunset. He’s always rushing, always doing something. His life really has become more goal-oriented than anything else. He guesses that’s what happens when you’re forced to grow up too fast. There’s no time to enjoy the simple things.

“All right, here we go,” Jaehyun says as he takes the seat opposite Taeyong. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Why?”

Jaehyun shrugs. “You seemed a bit dazed.”

“Just looking at the colors,” he admits, jutting his chin toward the sky.

Jaehyun takes a look. “Yeah, it’s definitely pretty. This is going to sound really corny, but, honestly, I’d rather be looking at you.”

Taeyong’s heart gives a particularly hard thud against his chest. It’s one thing for Jaehyun to think those things, but to actually say them allowed is definitely much different. It hits different; in a way that makes Taeyong drown and gasp for air. It settles under his skin. He’s not sure what to say, how to react. So, he simply ducks his head, knowing full-well that his face is aflame and there’s not much he can do about it.

“Sorry, I maybe shouldn’t have said that,” Jaehyun apologizes. When Taeyong peeks, there’s a smile playing on his lips and the tips of his ears turning red. “Sometimes I get caught up in a moment. You can just forget I said anything.”

“It’s okay. It’s just…I’m not used to it. I mean, to my face. I’m not used to people saying those things to my face.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Jaehyun says as he raises an eyebrow.

Taeyong replies with a delicate lift of his shoulder. He could tell Jaehyun that he’s picky, too. That dating was hard when it came to who he was and what his ability was. That most of the time if someone showed him interest it was in their head and barely had time to say it aloud because he was running in the opposite direction.

He wonders what it is about Jaehyun that makes him not scared out of his mind to try. Sure, it could have something to do with the fact that he has no idea Taeyong’s a telepath, but there have been people before who have shown interest in him and not known of his power.

In the end, though, he supposes it doesn’t really matter. Here he is, at a carnival, surrounded by people and their infinite thoughts, and Taeyong finds himself not really minding.

It’s actually kind of fun.

“Have you dated before?” Jaehyun asks. He’s not asking in judgement. There’s just innocent curiosity.

Taeyong nods. “Once or twice. They never really went anywhere, though, and didn’t last long. My longest relationship was three months, in my junior year of high school.”

“Rough ending?”

He wants to say it was rougher for him than the girl. Not that he had been in love with her. She just hadn’t been very tactful in the break-up. Despite his power being fairly normal knowledge, it turned out the girl hadn’t quite realized what it would be like to be Taeyong’s girlfriend. Whether she had been expecting it to be easier, for Taeyong to just do what she wanted because he simply knew, or if it was because he never gave her all the information he had, Taeyong didn’t know. Either way, it had been a bit of a blow.

“Not really,” he lies. Jaehyun hums, looking seemingly unconvinced, but doesn’t press it. “What about you?”

“My longest relationship was a year and they cheated on me, so that’s fun,” he says as if he’s announcing the weather. “It’s okay, though. Clearly it wasn’t meant to be and I’m not going to wallow on it anymore, you know?”

Taeyong twists what’s left of his hotdog in his hand and says, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was kind of my fault, really. With my powers I should have been able to figure it out. And, I guess, in a way, I did. I just didn’t want to acknowledge it. I just kept pretending it wasn’t happening until I turned up and, well, you can probably imagine the rest.” Jaehyun finished off his food and asks, “Okay, so enough about me. Where do you want to go next? We still have some time before we have to meet the kids.”

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

“As long as it’s not a ride?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, but,” Jaehyun purses his lips for a second in thought, “will you go on one with me? Just one. Promise.”

Squinting, Taeyong asks, “Which one?”

He follows Jaehyun’s finger and almost catches the snicker that escapes him. Almost. He turns back with a strained smile. “Really? That’s what you want to go on?”

“Please?”

_Please say yes. Please._

Taeyong hesitates.

_Or not…it’s fine. Don’t push him, Jaehyun. It’s not the end of the world._

“Fine,” he exhales and Jaehyun’s entire face brightens. “Fine, I’ll go. But no more rides after that.”

“Deal.”

And that’s how Taeyong finds himself standing in line for the most popular ride of the night. He stares up at the giant Ferris wheel that looms over them. Lights line each bar that holds it together, casting them in a variety of rainbow colors. Each seat is crafted to look like a carriage, lights surrounding the sides and over the roofs.

Jaehyun stands beside him, bag of leftover cotton candy in one hand with his stuffed dog tucked under his arm. His hand closest to Taeyong is free and it wouldn’t take much effort to reach over and take it—just like they’ve done the majority of their time together—but somehow it feels a lot more daunting to be the one to initiate it than to let it happen. Biting his lip, he hugs his dragon closer.

So far, the date’s been nice. Simple, but that’s not a problem. Taeyong likes simple. He likes to be able to figure things out quickly, even if Jaehyun himself isn’t like that. It’s odd, he thinks, that someone would be stupid enough to cheat on Jaehyun, who’s nothing but kind and sweet. There’s nothing wrong with Jaehyun and maybe that’s a problem. The more time he spends with him, the more he’s come to realize that he might like him.

Shit, he’s going to have to tell him about his power, especially if they keep going this direction and Taeyong kind of wants to keep going in this direction. Despite his inner judgement.

“We’re next,” Jaehyun says, taking Taeyong’s hand and leading him up the metal stairs to one of the free carriages. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“Not really. I just don’t like the feel of faster rides,” he explains, putting his dragon next to him while the worker closes and latches the door. “I can’t believe you want to go on this. This is such a cliché ride.”

“That’s exactly why I wanted to go on it. Besides, you’re happy about it. I can tell.”

The carriage jolts and starts to lift backward. Taeyong grips the edge of his seat. “Is it weird? Feeling the emotions of everyone around you?”

“Sometimes.” Jaehyun leans back in his seat. “At first, it was just overwhelming. Now, I guess, it’s not so bad. There are good days and bad days. It’s nice here, though, because pretty much everyone is just happy and I kind of feed off that.”

Well, that explained a little bit. “You can feed off of people’s emotions?”

Nodding, he says, “Yeah. I feel it, so I get it. It’s both a good thing and a pain in the ass. You should try being in an exam as an empath. That’s a nightmare. But carnivals? Fairs? Theme parks? The vast majority people are thriving on euphoria. Best places to be.”

It’s no wonder Jaehyun’s seemed so excitable over the last little while. Taeyong can’t help but stare as Jaehyun peeks out the small window. He glows in the light, his eyes bright and his mind reeling from all the positive emotions he’s contracting. It’s a good look on him.

Taeyong wishes he could do something like that. If reading positive thoughts had a positive repercussion, it probably wouldn’t be so bad. But all he gets is a headache when they start to layer over one another.

Sometimes, he wishes his power wasn’t something he was ashamed of. Something he could be proud of. And there were occasions that Taeyong found it terribly handy, like when he wants to check on Mark or Johnny when they don’t want to talk, when he can make sure everyone is okay and keep track of them all without having to say a word. Unfortunately, the majority of the time, it brings nothing but pain and heartache, and Taeyong hates that. He hates it so much.

He thinks about how many times he made mistakes as a child, opening his mouth when he shouldn’t. Or the times he read something that he wished he hadn’t. The times people thought about hurting him or other people, or just ugly words that never quite leave someone’s lips.

Johnny likes to say that Taeyong’s ability is all-mighty, that it holds more power than he thinks it does. He also tells him not to complain because at least he has a power that’s somewhat useful. But with every great power, comes an even bigger consequence. Taeyong wouldn’t wish telepathy on anyone.

“You okay?” Jaehyun asks. They’re still rotating slowly, carriage swinging, as the worker fills all the seats. “You disappeared there for a second.”

“Hm? Yeah, sorry. I’m fine.”

A comfortable silence falls over them as the Ferris wheel finally starts moving. It’s slow, smooth, and the view out the window is gorgeous. Colors fill the sky as the sun dips below the horizon, melding with the lights from the city. It’s not something Taeyong gets to see often, so he shifts a little closer to really take it in.

“Hey, Jaehyun,” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

His fingers clutch the seat, his heart skipping around his chest. “You never asked. Why did you never ask?”

“About what?”

“About what happened in the kitchen.”

_Oh._

Taeyong glances over. Jaehyun’s not looking at him. Instead, his gaze is set out the opposite window, his brows furrowing as he thinks of how to phrase his response. It takes a moment, but then he’s staring into Taeyong’s eyes and he can’t look away.

“I figured you would tell me if you wanted me to know,” he says. “It seemed personal. And while I invade a certain level of personal space because of my powers, there was something about that moment that made it feel untouchable. I’d never push you to tell me things, Taeyong. I’m not that kind of person. I’m just happy you want to talk to me or spend time with me. That’s all I want.”

“Do you want to know?”

Inhaling deeply, Jaehyun admits, “I’m not going to say I’m not curious. But I’m also not going to dig into your past. Like I said, I’m not that kind of person. If you want to tell me, I’ll be here to listen. Otherwise, I don’t expect anything.”

“You’re so different.”

“What do you mean?”

Taeyong looks out over the city scape. “I mean, there are people I’ve met who don’t want to pry, but there’s something about you that’s different. While they don’t want to force it out of me, their curiosity is prevalent. You, though. You don’t touch on it at all. It’s like you avoid it. As if it really doesn’t matter if you find out or not.”

“It’s because it doesn’t. Taeyong, your life is yours. I don’t get to dictate how much of it I get to know. You do. I can’t tell you what to do, I can’t tell you what to think or feel or what to say. You do. To expect you to open up to me would be foolish.” Jaehyun shakes his head, a smile pulling at his lips. “People who expect that are foolish. All I know and want to know is if you’re having a good time hanging out with me.”

A small laugh trickles out and Taeyong nods. “I am. I’m having a really good time. This was…amazing. Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Of course,” Jaehyun says. “Wouldn’t have wanted to come with anyone else.”

“Just out of curiosity, why me? We’ve barely known each other for a month. Is it just because I’m pretty?” He tries to play it off as a joke, but it still backlashes. He still ends up with the red cheeks.

“I mean, you’re definitely a looker. But you’re also kind, patient, intelligent. I can tell just as much from talking to you. And, apparently, you’re a fantastic cook, though I still haven’t gotten a chance to try anything.”

Burying his face in his hands, he mutters, “That night was a disaster. I swear, it’s not normally that bad.”

“Bad? Taeyong, it was a great night. I like your friends. And you all care about each other like you’re long-lost brothers or something. I’m honored you invited me to crash the evening.”

“If only it had ended nicer.” Taeyong drops his hands in his lap, twisting his fingers together. “I have…I guess you could say I have slight PTSD.”

He takes a chance and glances at Jaehyun, expecting some kind of pity or sadness. All he gets is a schooled, patient look. Inside, Jaehyun’s telling him to not push it, to not say anything if he doesn’t want to. The words never leave him because he’s also worried about stopping Taeyong. He doesn’t want to close off something prematurely that Taeyong’s willing to open, even if he’s hesitant. 

“My parents weren’t nice people,” he admits. “I mean, they were fine for a bit, but, overall, they weren’t amazing. My dad was hardly around, and when he was, he didn’t care much about my life. My mom stayed at home a lot of the time. Her hours were flexible. She loved me. For a little while. After I turned five, things went downhill. She became harsher. Less patient. I broke a plate once and she flipped out. She lifted her hand to hit me. She never did, but I was six and it was horrible, nonetheless. Here was this woman I thought loved me and yet she’s screaming at me until her face turns red and raising her hand as if she wants to backhand me into next week. When I flinched, she got madder, claiming she’d never hit me and that I was a terrible son for thinking she would. If something shatters, I freeze. I just picture her there.”

It isn’t until Jaehyun’s covering Taeyong’s hands with his own that he realizes that he’s trembling. His breathing is shallow, shaky. He can hear Jaehyun’s apologies filling his mind, though apologizing for what Taeyong doesn’t know. For what happened to him? For not stopping Taeyong from talking about it? It wouldn’t matter either way. Taeyong wants to talk about it. He wants to tell Jaehyun about it. So, he does.

“It’s okay,” Taeyong says. “Really. I have a good life now. A friend of mine got me out of the house and after a bit of time, my uncle took me in. He’s the only parent I really consider. And I have my found family in my friends. I couldn’t ask for anything better.”

“I’m glad you have them,” is what Jaehyun whispers.

“Me, too.”

Jaehyun stares intently down on their hands. “It might sound a bit selfish, but I hope you have me, too. I hope that I can help somehow. Even if things are better, people need support systems. How else would we function in life?”

Sighing, Taeyong takes a hand out from under Jaehyun’s and uses it to nudge his chin up. “If you’re in my support system, then I expect to be in yours. Deal?”

“Deal,” he breathes.

They’re so close. Inches away, leaning across the small gap between the seats. Taeyong knows Jaehyun wants to kiss him. The thoughts set him on fire from the toes up. His fingers brush along Jaehyun’s jaw almost self-consciously, like he can’t stop himself. And, _god_ , he’s never wanted to touch someone so badly before.

 _Fuck_ , Taeyong, slow down.

Jaehyun’s eyes snap to Taeyong’s lips. The vision of him leaning forward and kissing Taeyong is overwhelming. So overwhelming that it fogs up his mind just a little and the visions keep flicking to black. It’s disorienting because everything has always been so ridiculously clear in his mind even if it’s voices layering over voices. But when he’s with Jaehyun, this close, it’s like everything disappears from his head. He’s not sure how it happens, or why, but it’s strangely welcoming.

He finds himself shifting forward until his knees are bumping Jaehyun’s and he can feel Jaehyun’s breath on his lips. There’s a hand on his thigh. It’s warm. It anchors him down even though he feels like he’s about to lift into the air. When their foreheads touch, noses brushing, Taeyong’s breath hitches.

Exhaling, Jaehyun pulls back, though his hands stay. He meets Taeyong’s gaze with darkened eyes and gives a lazy smile. “Ride’s over.”

Sure enough, the carriage comes to a stop. Jaehyun takes Taeyong’s hand, helping him out. He tries to hide his very red face from the ride operator as they pass.

It takes minutes for his heart to slow down enough that he isn’t terrified that Jaehyun can feel it through his hand. They wander through the night crowd of the carnival, toward the front entrance. On the way, Taeyong thinks back and wishes Jaehyun had kissed him. It’s a terrifying thought, but it’s there regardless. And he can’t get it out.

“Thank you,” Jaehyun says as they slow to a stop. “For telling me, I mean. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. I figure, you’ve proved yourself enough to learn a bit about me.” The sky is dark now, stars winking at them from high above. “Actually, there’s something else. I think maybe you should know this.”

_Uh oh. That’s not a good way to start a conversation._

“It’s not a bad thing,” he hurries. “At least, not really. I don’t think it’s awful, but some people do—and I’m not making this seem any better, am I?”

_Not at all._

“It’s okay,” says Jaehyun. “Take your time. I’m in no rush.”

Yeah, Taeyong thinks, but _he_ is. Because if he doesn’t tell Jaehyun about his powers now, then it’ll only get worse from here. He knows that. Everyone’s told him that. Doesn’t make it any easier.

“It’s about my ability,” he starts slowly. “I can—”

“Jaehyun!”

They both turn to see Jaemin and Jeno push through the crowd. Colorful tattoos litter Jeno’s face and arms, ranging from butterflies to stars to planets. Tiny little braids with neon ribbons are bouncing around Jaemin’s pink locks. He’s even carrying a stuffed Samoyed half the size of his body. They look like they’ve been to every booth and on every ride. Both of their cheeks are flushed red with excitement and adrenaline.

“This place is great! I want to come back tomorrow,” Jaemin says as they stumbled to a stop. He links his arm with Jeno’s. There’s glitter in his hair. “Did you have a good time? Aw, you got a dragon!”

Taeyong grins and let’s Jaemin pat the dragon on the head.

“You two good to go?” Jaehyun asks.

“I mean, I don’t want to go, but mom will worry if we don’t leave,” Jaemin says, his lower lip sticking out in a pout.

Jaehyun ruffles Jaemin’s hair. “Let’s head out then. I definitely don’t what your mom on my ass.” Turning to Taeyong, he says, “Sorry about that. What were you saying?”

“It’s okay. Never mind. It’s not that important.”

While he didn’t seem convinced, Jaehyun says, “If you’re sure.”

On their way back to the car, Jaemin manages to detach himself from Jeno’s side to glue himself to Taeyong’s.

“So,” Jaemin begins, a smug grin on his face.

“I know what you’re going to ask and I’m not going to answer.”

The pout is immediately back in full force. Taeyong often forgets that Jaemin can be just as bad as Donghyuck, especially when they’re together. Fortunately for everyone, Jaemin also has the ability to access a more mature side of himself—he’s heard Mark call him ‘mom’ plenty to figure that out. Still, Jaemin can be a lot when he’s in a good place and, right now, he’s in a very good place.

Dating Jeno has brought back that child-like attitude. It’s a good thing Jeno knows how to calm him.

“Fine,” Taeyong sighs. “It was great. Now, shush. And don’t bug Jaehyun about it.”

“It’s cute that you’re already protective of him,” Jaemin comments before rushing off to climb into the backseat with Jeno.

Taeyong takes his dragon to the trunk. Jaehyun closes the door. “What’s he bugging you about?”

“You, and whether or not the date went well,” Taeyong says.

_Oh…that’s…_

Leaning against the car, Jaehyun asks, “And did it? Go well?”

“Well, it’s not done yet, is it?” he teases as he rounds the car to the passenger seat.

By some weird stroke of luck, Jaemin doesn’t ask any more questions in the car. Instead, he leans against Jeno’s shoulder and closes his eyes, sighing as if he’s found the most comfortable place in the world.

It doesn’t take long to drop the two of them off, leaving Taeyong alone with Jaehyun once again. Something’s shifted by the time they reach their apartment building. He keeps cheating glances, waiting to see if Jaehyun will do something or say something. However, he doesn’t.

Taeyong would be worried if it wasn’t for the fact that he could read Jaehyun’s mind. And all that’s doing is making Taeyong very antsy. He keeps thinking about what happened back in the Ferris wheel—and, _fuck_ , did he turn up the heat?

Pulling to a stop, Jaehyun casts Taeyong a smirk before getting out of the vehicle. Taeyong’s not sure how to take that. He steps out and Jaehyun’s already there with his stuffed dragon. He takes it with warm cheeks.

Together, they head up the elevator to their floor and Taeyong’s sure that if Jaehyun doesn’t say something or kiss the living daylights out of him right now he’s going to scream. The images Jaehyun’s conjuring isn’t helping him at all. They aren’t exactly risqué, but he’d rather Jaehyun actually feel what it’s like to kiss him than just think about it.

Taeyong’s used to people thinking uncensored things about him on occasion. Strangers, people who want to date him. None of those thoughts have hit him quite like Jaehyun’s do. It’s almost infuriating.

They reach Taeyong’s door and his fingers keep flexing on the dragon because if he doesn’t keep them on something he’s going to reach out and snag Jaehyun.

“So,” Jaehyun starts, “is now a good time to ask if you had a good time?”

“You have to ask?”

“I figured I would be nice enough to let you tell me how you feel for once.”

Taeyong grins into the top of the dragon’s head. “How gentlemanly.” He straightens and says, “I had fun. A lot of fun.”

“I’m glad. You seem less stressed.”

“I seem?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow.

Coughing a laugh, Jaehyun says, “Okay, you are less stressed. Significantly so. I really am glad you had a good time. I guess I was kind of worried it was going to be terrible.”

Taeyong tilts his head, brows furrowing. “Why would it be?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date. I know it wasn’t the most fantastic, show-stopping date, but—”

“Jaehyun,” he interrupts, “I had a really good time. I promise. Thank you for bringing me.”

“Wouldn’t think about bringing anyone else,” Jaehyun admits. “Thank you for coming with me. We should do it again.”

“I’d like that.”

The bag of cotton candy crinkles in his hand when Jaehyun moves forward. Taeyong barely feels the lips on his cheek before it’s gone. Jaehyun’s dimples are as deep as the ocean when he grins and Taeyong smiles back, desperate to hide his face again.

“I’ll text you,” he says.

Then he’s turning on his heel and going back to his own apartment a door down, glancing over his shoulder before he disappears inside. Taeyong’s fingers are shaky as he opens the door. Once inside, he leans against it, letting himself calm down, letting his heart realize he’s not running a race and never was.

The lights are out in the living room, but the hallway is bright, so he knows Johnny’s home. And a series of film-related thoughts only prove that he’s around the corner. Judging by the missing shoes and lack of musical internal monologue, Doyoung is out. He kicks off his shoes, shrugs off his jacket, and moves to sit the stuffed dragon on the dining table.

He grips the back of one of the chairs and sighs. A knock on the door makes him jump. Frowning, he heads back and opens it.

Jaehyun’s inside before he can think. “Okay, so here’s the thing. I know I like you. I like you a lot, actually. It’s kind of pathetic. Like, I can’t stop thinking about you and you’re just so ridiculously amazing. You’re so,” he gestures to Taeyong, “ _amazing_. And maybe I’m rushing things or maybe I’m reading this all wrong, but I think you like me, too. Even just a little bit.” Taeyong opens his mouth to reply, but Jaehyun throws up his hands and says, “Hold on. Just let me finish while I still have the confidence to. Where was I? Oh, right. Okay, so I like you and I’m pretty sure you like me and the date went well and I would very much like to date you more. Hold your hand, hug you, kiss you.”

Taeyong inhales sharply. “Wow, um…”

“Okay, so that sounds weird. I’m not good at this. Business meetings, friend chats—I’m good at those. Confessions aren’t my thing. But the point I’m trying to make is that, Taeyong, I really like you and I wouldn’t mind being your boyfriend if you were up for that. Or even just go on more dates. We don’t have to label it.” He pauses to breath. “Please tell me I’m not reading this completely wrong.”

To say he’s stunned is an understatement. And he’s finally just calmed down his heart. Well, that’s ruined now. He parts his lips, but no sound comes out. Out of all the things Jaehyun could have done, this was what he picked? Taeyong knows it’s spontaneous, even for Jaehyun, because he hadn’t been thinking about doing this at all. He had just shown up and done it.

“You, um…” He clears his throat, tongue still struggling to figure out how to work. “No, you didn’t—you didn’t read it wrong. I, uh, kind of like you, too.”

Jaehyun looks elated. Relieved. _Oh, thank god._ “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I do. This is just sort of abrupt.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I just got inside and realized that I really should have kissed you when I had the chance and then I was just here,” he looks around the small foyer, “word vomiting. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s kind of cute.”

Jaehyun laughs, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Glad you think so.”

“So, um, about that kiss?”

“Oh!” Jaehyun’s eye pop open. “Y-You want to?”

Taeyong can’t find it in himself to not smile. He might be dying from embarrassment on the inside, but, by god, he’s not going to show it right now. This is the one thing he’s wanted since they left that fucking Ferris wheel.

Shrugging, he says, “Well, you did come all the way here.”

“Right, you’re right. You know, this is a lot harder when it’s planned. It would be better if it was more in the moment and—”

Taeyong grabs the collar of Jaehyun’s shirt and crashes their lips together, successfully shutting Jaehyun up in the process. He’s not the kind of person to be confident, to take a chance like this. Actually, he likes to think he’s patient enough, that he’s just a little too shy to act, but Jaehyun makes him impatient. Jaehyun’s thoughts make him want to act.

So, he does.

Jaehyun tastes like cotton candy. It’s sweet on Taeyong’s tongue and he can’t stop himself from slanting his lips even more, reaching out and taking what Jaehyun’s giving. Fingers dig into his hips until they’re shifting beneath his t-shirt and brushing the skin there until it’s burning. A shiver shoots down his spine when Jaehyun walks him back until he hits the wall.

Despite the fast start, the rest is slow. Every touch, every kiss, lingers. The feeling from one kiss doesn’t have time to leave before the next one comes. Heart pounding in his chest, rushing to his ears, he drags Jaehyun closer until their bodies line up. His brain goes foggy, fizzes to black, and Taeyong can’t focus on any of the thoughts in his head. Not even his own.

Jaehyun’s hands dip lower when Taeyong pulls back to breathe. His eyes flutter open to find Jaehyun, red cheeked with swollen lips. He gazes at Taeyong’s lips as a frown mars his face.

_That is…weird._

“What’s wrong?” Taeyong asks, brushing Jaehyun’s fringe back.

“Nothing,” he whispers. “Nothing at all. I’ll, um, see you? Text you. God,” a breathy laugh escapes him, “I kind of don’t want to leave.”

“If you don’t, Johnny will walk in on us. And you don’t want him to. Trust me.”

Jaehyun leans in to kiss him again. Something short and sweet and Taeyong really wishes it would last longer. “Okay, yeah. Talk to you soon, then. Night, Taeyong.”

“Good night.”

Taeyong closes the door and rests his forehead against it. Well, _fuck_. That just happened.

“Well, well, well.”

He groans, turning so that he can look at Johnny, who stands there with his arms crossed and an infuriating smirk on his face. “How much did you see?”

“Luckily, nothing. But I heard things and I think I’m scarred for life. You’ll have to pay for my therapist.”

“I’m sneaking more strawberries on your pizza.”

“You _heathen_.”

Pushing himself from the door, Taeyong skirts around Johnny and says, “Leave me be.”

He’s almost made it to the hallway when Johnny grabs his arm. “Did you tell him, at least?”

“I tried,” he says and Johnny sighs, letting him go. “No, really. I honestly tried to tell him.”

“What happened?”

“Jaemin.”

“Ah.”

“Yep. After that, the moment was sort of gone.”

“And instead you had a very different sort of moment. Is he your boyfriend now?”

Taeyong rubs at his cheeks, feeling them heat up at the reminder of what just happened. “I guess? I don’t know. He offered and I never really answered, but I want to?”

“You sure? You sound very conflicted.”

“I’m not conflicted!” he says, a little too loudly. “I mean, no, I’m fine. I want to, you know, date him. This is awkward. Why are we talking about this?”

“Because you never tell me about your dates or your boy toys,” Johnny whines. “It’s disappointing. I’m always talking about my girl troubles _and_ you can read my thoughts.”

“Never call Jaehyun a boy toy again.”

“Fine, but, come on, tell me about your date. I’ll make popcorn.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “There’s not much to tell.”

“You say that, but I saw that kiss.”

“You said you saw nothing!”

The response he gets is a shrug paired with a playful smile, and then Johnny’s heading into the kitchen. Taeyong shakes his head at the antics. He supposes there’s no way out of it now. Johnny’s too stubborn to let it go and now Taeyong’s going to have to relive the night.

His lips tingle as he buries his face into his hands. Oh, he’s so fucked.

*

The next couple weeks are…nice. Really nice.

Despite the underlining stress of Johnny constantly telling him to come clean to Jaehyun, Taeyong’s happy. It’s different, but he’s definitely not mad about it. Jaehyun is good. He’s good for him, he thinks.

Jaehyun has this uncanny ability to make things seem easier. He’s seemed to work his way into Taeyong’s life in the smoothest way. Conversations with him are endless, Taeyong’s friends like him, and Taeyong really, _really_ likes him. With each day that passes, Jaehyun seems to worm himself farther and farther into Taeyong’s heart, and while that’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s not really a good thing either.

It just makes it harder for him to admit the truth. Johnny’s on his case about it, and so are most of his other friends. On one hand, they get it. They understand how hard it is because they know all of the failed attempts that have come before this and most of those people weren’t all that important, but some of them were extremely important and that’s what makes it increasingly difficult each time.

Jaehyun’s becoming important and Taeyong doesn’t want to lose that. He doesn’t know how he’ll handle it if Jaehyun decides to walk away.

And, sure, Jaehyun’s power is somewhat similar, but there’s a difference between feelings and thoughts. There’s a sense of control that’s lost when you know someone is reading everything inside your head, watching all your fantasies. Maybe there’s a chance that Jaehyun won’t care, but there’s also a small chance he will.

It’s not like Taeyong hasn’t tried, though. He has. He tries when they’re alone, studying. He tries when they’re hanging out on Wednesday nights with his friends. He tries even in text messages or phone calls. Except, each time they’re interrupted, or the conversation shifts, or Taeyong chickens out completely because Jaehyun smiles at him and he loses all his thoughts and courage.

They’re not even super involved and Taeyong’s already wrapped around Jaehyun’s finger. They spend time texting, wandering the area, spending time with friends. Taeyong thinks they’re boyfriends. It feels like it, at least. They haven’t really talked about it since that night it came up, so Taeyong’s inclined to assume that there are labels.

They hold hands and they kiss. They kiss quite a bit. Of course, it doesn’t tend to last long because Jaehyun tends to pull away with a furrowed brow and a thought that reads: _That’s so odd. So weird._ Taeyong would like to think that he’s not saying that about Taeyong’s kissing ability. As far as he knows, he’s good enough, so he’s not sure what it is. Jaehyun’s very good at thinking about how weird it is, but not really thinking about what it is.

It’s a bit infuriating and a lot exhausting.

Taeyong doesn’t think of himself as an overly sexual person. It’s not really something he cares about in a relationship, but Jaehyun makes him want it and, every time he stops, Taeyong wants to scream.

He slams his textbook closed and grips his hair. His headache is out of control today and he really isn’t helping himself by thinking about all this stuff. There’s a test coming up and he can’t fail. It’s too bad none of his neighbors got that message. Their thoughts are like rolling thunder, consistently getting louder and louder with no way to stop it.

The buzzing of his phone gets his attention.

**Jaehyun:**

**You OK?? I can feel your stress through the wall**

Sighing, he types out a response.

**Taeyong:**

**My room is on the other side of the apartment.**

**There are several walls in the way.**

**Jaehyun:**

**That just makes it worse**

**Come over?**

**Taeyong:**

**Is that a good idea?**

**Last time we tried to study together we got distracted.**

**Jaehyun:**

**I’m not mad about that**

**Taeyong:**

**I need to study.**

**Jaehyun:**

**Bring your books**

**We’ll be good**

**Taeyong:**

**You said that last time.**

**Jaehyun:**

**Please?**

_I’m so bored. Please save me from this hell. Please say yes. Please, please._

Hearing Jaehyun’s internal begging makes him give in. He’s a sucker and he knows it. He tells Jaehyun he’s on his way, gathers up his books, and heads out.

Taeil is the one to open the door. He stands there in their university hoodie that swallows him up to the knee and baggy sweatpants. His hair looks as if he’s been running his fingers through it with frustration for the last few hours, which he probably has because, according to Jaehyun, Taeil has a mock trial coming up in the next couple of days. It’s a whole vibe that Taeyong totally understands. He hasn’t even had time to re-dye his hair. It’s faded to a weird strawberry color that doesn’t really work with his skin tone.

 _He’s in his room_ , Taeil thinks as he opens the door wider. He’s one of those people who knows Taeyong’s a telepath since they met. Taeil had fallen through Doyoung’s wall when his old roommate playfully shoved him. It was an eventful first day in their apartment. Now, Taeil just likes to freak Doyoung out by sticking his head through the wall just to hear him scream.

Kicking off his shoes, Taeyong nods and heads down the hall. Jaehyun’s door is open with him perched in the middle of his bed and sketches spread about him. When he hears the footfalls, he looks up, a smile taking over his face.

“Hey, come on in,” he says, gathering up some of the papers. “Take a seat.”

Taeyong does as he’s told and moves around to the other side of the bed to climb up beside Jaehyun. He eyes the sketches. They’re all modern looking homes. “What are you working on?”

“I have to pick three to hand in for Thursday. It’s giving me a bit of a headache. Also, this building. This building is giving me a headache. Everyone seems to be on high today,” Jaehyun says as he massages his temples. Taeyong wants to say he relates, but that would involve telling Jaehyun the truth and it seems like too abrupt a time to do that.

“Isn’t me being here making it worse?” asks Taeyong.

Shaking his head, Jaehyun tells him, “Actually, better. I like your emotions. They don’t feel like they’re attacking me. They’re soft, you know?”

“No, I don’t know, but I’ll take your word for it. Now, you said we’d be good, so I’m going to ignore you and read this textbook.”

“I can’t believe you’d pick your textbook over me,” Jaehyun says with mock-hurt tinging his voice.

He waves the book. “Test tomorrow. I’m not about to fail.”

“You won’t fail. I know you.”

“Do you?”

Sighing, Jaehyun moves back so he’s leaning against the headboard. His eyes trailing up and down Taeyong’s body as if he’s assessing him. And he is. Sort of. But he’s also going through so many words and images that Taeyong’s struggling to really understand what he’s trying to get at.

Then, he says, “Not as much as I’d like to, but I like to think I know a bit. Like,” he reaches over to take the textbook from Taeyong’s hands, “you have very good grades. And from what I hear, you don’t really need to study all that much. You do it out of a formality.”

“Who told you that?”

“Johnny.”

“Of course, he did.” He watches as Jaehyun sets all their things at the end of the bed and shifts closer. “Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t study.”

“You have been. All day. Don’t you think you should take a break?”

Taeyong shakes his head. “I told you coming over was a bad idea.”

“Look, we can take a bit of a break and then go back to studying. Deal?” Jaehyun offers. He leans over to kiss Taeyong’s clothed shoulder, blinking up at him through his lashes. “Please?”

_I’m going to go crazy if I look at one more house._

His gaze flicks down to Jaehyun’s lips and he mentally sighs. “You owe me.”

“I think I could make it up to you.”

His hand rests against Taeyong’s jaw, tilting it so that he could kiss him. If there’s one thing Taeyong’s learned is that Jaehyun is a soft kisser. He likes to take his time, really embrace every moment. His hands trace over Taeyong’s body like a whisper. Each press of his lips sends Taeyong’s mind spinning.

Even after a few times, it’s still a weird feeling. He’s so used to his mind being so full of thoughts that it’s both refreshing and disorienting. Still, he can’t help but love it because, _damn it_ , is it fucking good. Fuzzy mind or not, Taeyong loves kissing Jaehyun.

He gasps when Jaehyun pushes on his shoulder, causing his back to hit the mattress. He holds up a finger to pause Jaehyun from leaning over him so he can shift the pillows from digging uncomfortably into his spine. He smiles when Jaehyun chuckles at him. Taeyong’s still wiggling into place when Jaehyun lowers himself so he can run his lips along Taeyong’s jaw, slowly, carefully. It’s distracting.

“Will you hold on? How is your pillow so sharp?” Taeyong whines. A moan escapes him when Jaehyun’s teeth scrape against the skin of his neck. “Y-You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the point,” mutters Jaehyun against his jaw. He presses another kiss there. “Come back here.”

Taeyong doesn’t get a chance to respond because his head is being tipped up again and Jaehyun is kissing him harder and deeper than he ever has before. He’s not ready for it, so it takes a moment for him to realize how to kiss back, but when he feels Jaehyun’s tongue against his lip, he snaps out of it.

His fingers tangle into Jaehyun’s hair and parts his legs a little more. Jaehyun moves between them, pressing himself as close as he can get. His hands drift down Taeyong’s sides until they’re on his hips and his thumbs are rubbing against the skin there. He squeezes and Taeyong’s hips jump before he can stop them. His breath hitches. It makes his hand tighten on Jaehyun’s hair, which, in turn, makes Jaehyun growl against his lips.

Jaehyun props himself up on his elbows, pecking Taeyong once and then smiles down on him. Taeyong brushes his hair away from his face, grinning back, as he takes in Jaehyun’s red lips and flushed checks and dark eyes. It’s a sight he could very much get used to. He’s almost too preoccupied with the way Jaehyun’s pupils dilate that he almost misses the frown that inches onto his face. He does, however, catch the thought of _weird_ before Jaehyun flips them over so fast it knocks the wind out of Taeyong, and kisses him again.

Shifting so he’s straddling Jaehyun, he cups Jaehyun’s jaw, letting himself feel the smoothness of his skin as he tilts his head to the side a little more. Jaehyun’s hands wander to Taeyong’s hips again. When he grinds down, they both groan—Taeyong’s a little breathier and definitely louder than he would have expected. He’s a bit shocked at himself, but he doesn’t want to stop.

Jaehyun, unfortunately, has the opposite idea. He’s the one that presses a bit into Taeyong’s waist, hands now under his shirt. He’s frowning again. Just like he always does when things seem to go a little too far.

Taeyong’s not one to push it. He’s been in the position where he’s stopped things early, too, but it’s a bit frustrating when Jaehyun won’t talk to him about it.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Jaehyun shakes his head against the pillow. “Nothing.”

“It’s obviously something. You frown every time we kiss. That bad?”

“I’m not—It’s not that. I mean, it’s not the kiss, per say.”

Jaehyun sits up, which forces Taeyong to slide back a bit on his lap. Wrapping his arms around Jaehyun’s neck, he tilts his head and asks, “So, what is it then?”

“Um, so…” Jaehyun glances down between them, voice trailing off. They’re lined against each other with hardly any room to breathe. It doesn’t seem to bother Jaehyun at all because he doesn’t think to move or even make an effort to. Instead, he brings his knees up, knocking them into Taeyong’s back and pressing even closer. “At first, I didn’t think it was a big deal. I thought maybe just kissing you just made my brain go fuzzy because I just really like you and I figured that was normal.”

“But?”

“It’s weird. It’s like my brain shuts off. Everything goes black. I can’t feel anything. It’s like all the emotions disappear, except mine. I don’t know why or how, but it only happens when I kiss you.”

Taeyong lets himself take in the curve of Jaehyun’s lips and the furrow of his brow. Jaehyun’s gaze is dark and holds so much there that he can’t look away.

It is weird. Definitely a bit odd. Because, if he really thinks about it, what Jaehyun is talking about sounds an awful lot like what happens to Taeyong when they kiss. Like opening his mind to an abyss of nothing. No old lady worrying about her cat, not kids whining about their parents or their homework, no university students thinking about their exams. Just the feeling of Jaehyun against him, kissing him, touching him.

“That seems strange, though, right?” Jaehyun mutters.

He nods. “A bit. But maybe it’s true. Maybe there’s something happening there. Maybe it’s me.” His voice is a whisper on the last three words, drawing Jaehyun’s brows even closer together than before.

“What do you mean?”

“I need you to know that I was going to tell you earlier, but things happened so fast and then there were no openings and—”

“Hey, hey,” Jaehyun says, arms winding around Taeyong even tighter. He gives a soft smile. “It’s okay. Just tell me what’s up.”

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. “It’s about my power. I—”

“Is it okay to look?”

Taeyong twists around to find Taeil sticking his head through the door until his shoulders are visible, hand covering his eyes. The pounding of his heart doesn’t slow, even when Jaehyun gently moves Taeyong off his lap and laughs.

“Yeah, it’s fine. What’s up?”

Taeil flips his hand up to look. “Oh, good. Just wanted to let you know that I’m headed out to dinner.”

“All right. Have a good time.”

“You, too. But not too good of a time.” He looks to Taeyong, who’s cheeks heat like torches. “And, remember, the rest of the house is off limits. Use protection—”

“Yes! Yes, thank you, Taeil. Good _bye_.”

With a two fingered salute, Taeil disappears though the door once again.

Jaehyun sighs, running his fingers through his hair, and turns back to Taeyong with a smile. “Sorry about that. What were you saying?”

“Oh, it’s, um…” He grips the sheets. “Never mind. It’s nothing. Don’t mind me.”

Scooting closer, Jaehyun rests an arm around Taeyong and pulls him closer. He drops his head against Jaehyun’s shoulder. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know.”

“Good, because I don’t want you to worry about telling me anything. I promise that whatever it is, it’s probably not as bad as you think it is.”

But it is. For weeks, for almost two months, Taeyong’s been in Jaehyun’s mind without any knowledge. That’s going to be a blow. He knows it is.

“Let’s order a pizza,” Jaehyun says. “We can watch a movie while we eat, and then you can get back to studying. Deal?”

“You’re not going to ask?” questions Taeyong.

Jaehyun wants to know. He can hear the questions, the pondering of Taeyong’s choice of words and whether or not it really is as bad as Taeyong makes it seem, but then those thoughts disappear. They’re replaced with _don’t dig if he’s not ready_ and _he’ll tell you when it’s right_.

“You’ll tell me when the time is right,” Jaehyun decides. “Don’t worry, okay? So, pizza?”

*

Johnny is as unimpressed as Taeyong feels.

The days are spent with judgmental expressions and constant thoughts that remind Taeyong that he’s digging his own grave with each passing day. He’s _trying_. He’s failing, too, but he can’t think about that for right now.

It’s Wednesday night, which means Friend Night. Or, well, Family Night for Taeyong considering his friends are the only family he really has besides his uncle. Wednesdays used to be so fun, and they still are, but there’s now this niggling feeling in the back of his mind every time he sees Jaehyun laughing with his friends in the middle of the living room.

They’ve been lying to him. Taeyong’s been lying to him. And time’s slowly running out. He knows it is.

“You’re doing it again,” Johnny says as he leans up against the counter.

“Doing what?”

“Cleaning.”

Taeyong halts. He’s been bent over the sink for the last twenty minutes—according to the clock on the stove, anyway—scrubbing at the stainless steel until his lower back starts to ache.

“It was dirty,” he murmurs.

Raising a brow, Johnny says, “It’s very clean now. Drop the sponge and no one will get hurt.” Taeyong tosses the sponge onto the counter. “Good job. So proud of you.”

“Don’t be patronizing.”

“You probably should get out there. Jaehyun’s starting to worry. He says your panic is high. Honestly, it wouldn’t be so bad if you—oh, I don’t know— _tell him_.”

“Look, I get it!” he snaps. Realizing his voice is just a little too loud, he lowers it and says, “I get it, Johnny. I’ve always known how these things go. Meet someone, see if they’re here to stay, and then tell them and then see if they _actually_ stay.” He turns to grip the counter, squeezing his eyes shut. “From the outside it’s so easy, you know? Just tell him and hope he likes me enough to stick it through. But you don’t know. I’ve lost people, Johnny. People I care about. People who should have stayed with me. So, forgive me if I’m not ready to leap at the chance.”

Johnny sets his glass on the counter and moves so he can put an arm around Taeyong’s shoulders. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just know that the longer you delay things, the worse it might get. And if Jaehyun finds out from someone other than you—”

“I know. I’ve been trying. I promise you I have.” The stove beeps. Taeyong grabs the oven-mitts. “I’m telling him tonight. When everyone is gone. I have to.”

“You know, if you need anything at all…”

“I know. Thank you. Now, can you help me cut this pizza up and feed the army out there?”

Johnny is nice enough to not mention anything while he helps out. While they pass out the plates, Taeyong promptly ignores the way Jaehyun shoots him a questioning look. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Not yet.

They have a good group of people tonight. Jungwoo and Lucas have taken up the couch, Kun’s stolen the chair by the window, Taeyong’s found a spot on the floor next to Jaehyun, and Doyoung’s dragged over two chairs from the dining table for himself and Johnny. The newest additions are Sicheng, Yuta, and Ten. They don’t tend to come due to their dance practices, but it was cancelled tonight and Yuta’s always begging to eat whatever Taeyong’s made.

All three of them are on the floor, on the other side of the coffee table. Ten looks like he’d rather drown in his water than be next to Yuta and Sicheng, who have found themselves wound together with Yuta practically in Sicheng’s lap. After so many years of dating, they still seem to be very much in love, even if Sicheng’s usually pretty secretive about his affections. Yuta, however, is not. That boy will make it forever known he’s in love with Sicheng. He’d scream it from the rooftop if anyone let him.

“So, boyfriend, huh? How come no one told me?” Jungwoo asks, lower lip sticking out in a petulant pout. Lucas loops his long arms around him and pulls him into a hug. “I’ve been here, every Wednesday, since this happened and no one said anything? I thought I was your best friend.”

“I’m his best friend,” Johnny argues.

“Then what the hell am I?” asks Doyoung.

Taeyong throws up his hands. “Boys, let’s not fight, okay? And I was going to tell you, but you’ve been busy and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“It doesn’t take that long to send me a message that says, ‘Hey, got myself a drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend.’ When that happens, I want to be interrupted. Johnny interrupts me all the time with texts about his non-girlfriend from the first floor.”

“I’m so close to getting a date, I swear,” Johnny grumbles.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” says Taeyong.

“To be fair,” Jaehyun says as he puts down his pizza, “we never really called each other boyfriends. I asked you out and you never really made that clear.”

The way he looks at Taeyong makes him flush from the tips of his toes to the tops of his ears. It’s like a rush of heat he can’t control. It’s true, though. He never really answered. That was one conversation they haven’t cleared up. And he really doesn’t want to do it in front of his friends, but, apparently, Jaehyun’s willing to with the way he watches Taeyong expectantly.

Clearing his throat, Taeyong reaches for his water. He’s feeling suddenly very parched. “Um, true. I figured it was, you know, a given, especially now.”

“Now?”

“We’ve been pretty close the last couple weeks,” he elaborates. “I guess, it just became kind of normal, in my head. To be, you know, boyfriends.”

A small smile tugs at Jaehyun’s lips. Reaching out to take his hand, he says, “You’re so cute. I’m okay with it. More than okay with it.”

“If you kiss in front of my pizza, I’m not going to be happy,” says Ten, waving his piece between the two of them. “It’s bad enough I have to deal with these two all the time.”

“We’re not that bad,” counters Sicheng. “We try to not be that bad with you around, anyway.”

“I feel like I’m the only straight guy,” Johnny says, eyeing the group. “Soon Ten’s going to have a boy toy and then I’m going to be outnumbered. Taeil needs to come by more often.”

“What are Kun and I? Invisible?” Doyoung says, frowning. “Nice to know we’re loved.”

“Kun’s bi and you’re…Well, I’m not sure what you are.”

“I’m straight, dumbass. We’ve been friends for years and you didn’t know that?”

Johnny waves his hand. “You don’t date. And you don’t talk about people.”

“That’s because I hate them all.”

“Can you two stop fighting? Please?” Taeyong begs. “Honestly, you’re children.”

“He started it,” Johnny argues and Doyoung opens his mouth to retort, but Taeyong shuts him up with a sideways glance. Instead, Doyoung settles with sticking out his tongue.

Straightening up, Doyoung turns so he’s facing Jaehyun. “Just so you know, you break his heart and I make you walk off the nearest roof.”

Taeyong balks. “Doyoung!”

“It’s true, dude. He will,” adds Johnny. “And I’ll be there cheering him on.”

“Johnny!”

“What?” Doyoung sniffs. “It’s only fair for him to be informed of what will happen if he makes any mistakes. Besides, I’ve been dying to use my power for revenge.”

“You do it all the time with me,” Johnny says.

Doyoung shrugs. “That’s different.”

“How is that different?”

“Okay!” Taeyong shouts, successfully cutting them both off. “Thank you, but there will be no mesmerizing my boyfriend off a roof.”

“Well, if he breaks your heart, I would hope he’s your ex-boyfriend and you won’t mind so much.”

“You two are just…” He trails off, burying his face in his hands. He can feel Jaehyun rubbing circles into his back, chuckling lightly under his breath. He finds the whole thing amusing. Taeyong finds it mortifying.

They fall into easy conversation from there. Jungwoo spends most of the time grilling Taeyong about Jaehyun—despite the fact that Lucas keeps trying to change the conversation every time Jungwoo compliments Jaehyun on his looks.

“Relax, babe,” he kisses Lucas on the cheek and then on the nose, “you’re definitely more my type.”

“You know, I was really hoping that after two years they wouldn’t be as gross,” Doyoung says, scrunching up his face.

“You’re just jealous. Lonely singles are so sad, aren’t they, Lulu?”

Lucas’ boisterous laughter filters through his fingers and bounces off the walls. Taeyong’s pretty sure his neighbors can hear it. Ah, there’s the little old lady across the hall moaning about the noise.

“Tell me, Jaehyun, how much jealousy is in this room right now?” Jungwoo teases, leaning down to stage-whisper into Jaehyun’s ear.

Everyone snickers when Doyoung throws his balled-up napkin at Jungwoo, who catches it with ease.

Taeyong’s reaching for his glass again when he notices Jaehyun’s laughter slow and his smile not quite reaching his eyes anymore. “You okay?”

Nodding, he says, “Yeah, it’s just a bit of a headache. It’ll go away later. Par for the course, right?”

“It must be hard,” Yuta says, “feeling everyone’s emotions.”

“It’s got its difficult days, that’s for sure, but it comes in handy. Can’t imagine not being able to do it, you know? After so many years of it.”

“That’s kind of like Taeyong. He’s always talking about how his power is kind of annoying, but, like, who wouldn’t want to read people’s minds? That’s the coolest thing ever—”

Taeyong chokes on his water, splashing it down his front. The whole room falls silent. Sicheng’s covered Yuta’s mouth, whose eyes have gone impossibly wide, having just realized what he said. They’ve all been told, reminded not to say anything, but Yuta’s always had a problem holding his tongue.

When Sicheng finally lowers his hand, Yuta says, “Oh, god. I’m so sorry, Tae.”

“It’s—It’s okay,” he mutters, casting a glance toward Jaehyun. His eyes are narrowed and very clearly searching for something in Taeyong’s posture and expression.

“Mind…reading,” Jaehyun states.

“Um, yeah.” He clears his throat. “Jaehyun—”

_For how long?_

Taeyong flinches. “Always.”

His heart tilts like a seesaw in his chest when Jaehyun averts his gaze to the table. Taeyong just wants him to look up, to look at him. The silence is killing him.

_You’ve heard everything. Since day one._

“Jaehyun, say something,” he says, reaching out.

 _Why should I?_ Jaehyun pulls away. _You can just read my mind._

“Jae—”

_You’ve heard everything I thought about you this whole time, didn’t you?_

Taeyong nods.

“I think I need to go,” says Jaehyun.

“What?”

Taeyong is quick to scramble to his feet, nearly pitching over into Jungwoo on the way, when Jaehyun rises to stand. They stare at one another for a moment before Jaehyun starts around the couch, away from Taeyong. He refuses to look up, his mind spinning.

_The whole time. You could read my mind the whole time._

“You’ve got to listen to me,” he says as he moves to stand in front of Jaehyun. “I tried to tell you. You have to believe me. I was going to tell you tonight. I promise.”

Jaehyun skirts around him. “I just need to think. Without you hearing it.”

“Dude, that’s not fair,” Johnny snaps as he stands.

Throwing out a hand to stop Johnny, Taeyong whispers, “It’s okay. It’s definitely fair.”

“Taeyong—”

“No, Johnny.” Before Jaehyun can open the front door, shoes on, he adds, “Please, Jaehyun. Just let me explain.”

“I just need to think,” he repeats, somewhat dazed. It’s as if his body is on autopilot. _The whole time. He could hear me the whole time. Everything I thought. Everything._

“Jaehyun, hear him out,” Kun says, softly. “It’s not as bad as you think.”

Stopping at the door, Jaehyun says, “You all knew. And,” he looks over his shoulder at Taeyong, “you never told me. You just let me think some of the most embarrassing things without a word about it.”

“I tried,” he insists, putting his hands out pleadingly. “I really tried. I started so many times, but it just never felt like the right time and before I knew it time had passed.”

“You can’t just walk away,” says Johnny.

“Johnny, stay out of it,” Jaehyun snaps.

“No, because you’re about to walk out that door without even letting Taeyong talk, and I know you’re better than that.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I need to go. Have a good night.”

“Jaehyun, please,” he begs, taking a step forward. He’s worried that if he gets too close that Jaehyun will make a break for it. That he’ll bolt and never come back.

_I can’t do this right now._

“ _Please_.”

Jaehyun’s mouth opens, but he clamps it shut just as quickly and any thoughts he was about to voice are filtered out. All he can think is how disappointed he is. Disappointed Taeyong never told him. Disappointed that Taeyong never trusted him. Shaking his head, he leaves. The door closes heavier than planned. It makes Taeyong wince.

He lets Johnny bring him in close—not quite a hug, but just enough to let Taeyong know he’s there. His legs don’t want to hold him up anymore. It’s so hard not to reach out and grasp onto Jaehyun’s thoughts. Jaehyun’s become almost as easy to read as Johnny, Mark, and Doyoung. But he can’t right now. He can’t do that because he’s already breached enough of Jaehyun’s trust. So, he desperately pulls back, latching onto his friends enough to cover Jaehyun like a thin veil.

“I’m so sorry, Taeyong,” Yuta says. “I’m so sorry. I just can’t control my stupid mouth. I didn’t mean to. I promise, I didn’t.”

“I know. It’s okay. I don’t blame you.”

It would be so easy to blame Yuta, but, at the same time, this was Taeyong’s fault only. If only he had said something sooner. He knew this was going to happen. Part of him was prepared for it, but the other part, the bigger part, definitely wasn’t. Watching Jaehyun close the door behind him was like watching his heart shatter. But he doesn’t have that right. He lost that when he was too scared to admit the truth.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispers, and Johnny’s arm tightens around him. “It’s mine.”

*

It’s possible to hear Jaehyun across town, although, it’s faint. It isn’t until an hour after everyone leaves, having nothing left to say, that Taeyong notices just how faint Jaehyun’s thoughts really are. He’s expecting them to be on the other side of the wall, but it’s clear they’re back home, with his parents. At least, that’s what Taeyong can grab.

He’s not sure how he should feel about it. The fact that Jaehyun’s gone home, that he won’t answer Taeyong’s text, it hurts. Taeyong knows he isn’t really allowed to feel hurt, but he does anyway. It’s hard to go from always talking to zero contact.

If there’s one thing he can take comfort in, it’s that Jaehyun isn’t mad. But being disappointed feels so much worse, in his opinion. Especially because it doesn’t just come from Jaehyun. It comes from Johnny when he passes Taeyong on the couch, stuffing his face with ice cream. It comes from Doyoung when he dances around the kitchen as Taeyong stress bakes, even though he’s been calling it class practice.

It burns deep in a way he’s not used to. He’s always tried to be the one to hold things together, to be the backbone, to be the pillar of support, and now he’s crumbling and he’s ruined whatever image of those things he had. It feels all kinds of wrong.

He gives himself a couple days of pity. And when Jaehyun’s thoughts suddenly get gradually louder until he’s right next door, Taeyong knows he has to pull himself out of it. He decides to take the bull by the horns and grow a pair. Now, he’s mixing metaphors. Wow, he’s really not doing well.

The problem is, the moment he decides it’s time to try and hunt Jaehyun down, Jaehyun decides he likes to play hide and seek. Taeyong knocks on his door, knowing he’s in his room studying, and either no one answers or Taeil politely tells him Jaehyun doesn’t want to talk. The texts remain unanswered, the calls going straight to voicemail. Even on campus, when Taeyong calls out Jaehyun’s name, Jaehyun turns and disappears into the crowd.

Jaehyun’s avoiding him. He knows he is. He can hear Jaehyun thinking about it. He can even hear that Jaehyun misses him, that he’s disappointed, that he’d rather just live with his own thoughts for a little while longer. Usually, all that it ends with a _Taeyong, stop listening to me_.

And Taeyong also knows Jaehyun can feel his soul-crushing regret, his undeniable guilt, and his painstaking heartache of just missing Jaehyun, in general. It’s not like he can stop. The only way to get any kind of closure is to just hear Jaehyun say he wants nothing to do with Taeyong right to his face. Unfortunately, that opportunity is nearly impossible to find.

So, yeah, Taeyong’s realized that he might need to just accept that Jaehyun simply might never talk to him again.

It isn’t until he’s wiping at his eyes, he notices he’s crying. Again. God damn it, not again.

“You okay?” Johnny asks, knocking on his doorframe.

Rubbing at his eyes, he straightens and says, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You should head to bed.”

“I will. Night.”

When Johnny leaves, Taeyong gets up to close the door. With the click, it unlocks something in Taeyong and he can’t stop the sob that elicits from his lips. He covers his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut, and there’s just one thing he really wants, really needs, and that’s for Jaehyun to not know he’s crying.

It’s impossible to know if it’s comforting or not when he hears Jaehyun’s voice in his head: _Please, don’t cry._

Taeyong slides to the floor, tears on his cheeks, and Jaehyun’s voice telling him it’s okay and to breathe. _Just breathe_.

*

The front door’s opening before Taeyong can even reach it. He stops along the pathway to his house, watching as a man steps out. He turns back around and leans in. The door is blocking what he’s doing and saying, but Taeyong can hear his thoughts, so he can put the pieces together.

_I love you._

_Fuck, I’m so lucky._

_I can’t wait until you leave your husband._

Taeyong’s hand grips at the strap of his backpack, knuckles turning white. The man steps all the way out, shutting the door behind him, and when he starts down the path, he spots Taeyong. For a split moment, the words _oh shit_ cross his mind, but he catches himself. A thin, useless smile spreads across his face.

“Taeyong, right? I’m Jihoon. A friend of your mother’s,” he says, holding out his hand.

_More like her boyfriend, but I guess I can’t put a label on that._

_I hope he didn’t notice. We’re in deep shit if he did._

Staring at the hand, Taeyong says nothing. He’s not touching this man. This man that he knows his mother’s been sleeping with for years, that she seems to think she can hide. This isn’t the first man she’s been seeing on the side, but he’s definitely been around the longest. He’s the one his mother’s been seriously considering leaving her husband, Taeyong’s father, for.

Not that his father would notice. He’s never around anyway. Taeyong’s not even sure he remembers he has a wife and son sometimes.

Chuckling gracelessly, Jihoon takes his hand back, slipping it into his pocket. “I was just helping your mother with some plumbing fixes.”

He nods.

“Don’t talk much, do you?”

_No wonder she wants to get rid of him. Awkward, little freak._

So, he doesn’t know. It’s been years and even now his mother refuses to acknowledge he’s a telepath. He supposes it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise she hasn’t told anyone. Seven years of denial. It’s a long time.

“Your fly’s down,” Taeyong states as he slips around the man and heads up to the front door.

_Shit. Fucking shit._

Ignoring Jihoon’s inner monologue, Taeyong lets himself inside. He kicks off his shoes and peeks into the living room. His mother is sprawled onto the couch, phone in her hand. It’s really a pity, he thinks. She’s such a beauty. The long, dark hair, the big, round eyes, and the tall, willowy figure. She could be a model if she wanted. She should be in front of a camera, posing. Or singing. She’s always been good at that. Instead, she’s embraced the life of a trophy wife for her husband to parade around when he remembers and takes her to fancy dinners and balls.

Taeyong thinks there’s nothing wrong with being a house-wife, but he does somewhat blame all the time at home for his mother to use for suitors like the man that just left their house. Other men who have sat on their couch, ate their food, touched their stuff. Probably worse. Definitely worse. Taeyong tries not to think about it. He has enough rude images in his head from prepubescent boys—and girls—from school. And his mother when she decides to get frisky over text at night.

It’s humiliating and disgusting and Taeyong really can’t wait to get out of the house. Unfortunately, twelve-year-olds can’t legally live on their own. What a shame.

“Oh, you’re home,” his mother says, looking up from her phone. He shifts onto his other foot as she stares him down. “You take your pills?”

“Yeah,” he lies. “Who was that? That just left.”

“He was just fixing some things around the house. Nothing to worry about.” Her eyes narrow. Her make-up is a bit smudged around the edges and her lipstick is nothing but stain now, clearly having been rubbed off somehow. “Why?”

Taeyong can’t help the way his body tenses up. There’s an underlining tone of warning that whips at him, that sets every part of him up to bolt. Still, he tries to school his features, keep calm, and not move. He knows his mother has a temper and that she can be a force when she wants to be.

“What, Taeyong? Spit it out,” she snaps, sitting up on the couch and placing her phone on the coffee table.

“It’s—It’s nothing—It’s not important,” he stutters. “I-I don’t—Never mind—”

“I-I-I-I,” his mother mocks. Slowly, like a slinking cat, she stands. “Use your words. I taught you better than that.”

Taeyong’s eyes snap to the door. He’s got options. To run. To talk. Both have consequences. Running would mean leaving his family behind—no matter how dysfunctional it is—and talking? Well, talking would mean either lying, which he’s not very good at, or telling the truth, which would certainly make his mother angry.

He doesn’t get the chance to choose, however, because his mother’s brow curls together, her lips turning downward in a frown. “Talk. Now.”

“You’re seeing him,” he blurts, unable to stop himself.

The way his mother flinches is light, barely noticeable, because within the second she’s drawing herself up like a cobra and Taeyong’s shrinking under her gaze. “You haven’t been taking your pills, have you?”

“I have!” he says, stepping back.

“Give me your pills, Taeyong. Prove to me you’ve been taking them.”

“No, I promise, I’m taking them. I just…I’ve seen him before. I’m not stupid.” It’s true, really. He thinks that even if he couldn’t read minds that he’d know about his mother’s affair. She wasn’t very subtle.

She holds out her hand. “Give them to me now!”

“I promise, I am!” He barely has time to react before his backpack is flying from his grasp into his mother’s outstretched hand. “No, give it back!”

“Not until I know you aren’t lying to me,” she says through gritted teeth.

He starts forward, ready to pull his bag back, but his mother is quicker than him, practiced, and she whips out a hand and he’s zooming into the nearest wall. The hit knocks all the wind out of him. His shoulder aches. When he looks up, his mother is pulling out a white bottle much to his horror. Popping open the top, she shakes the bottle and several red pills spill out into her palm. Too many for a bottle that’s been there for a month.

The air goes cold and stiff. Taeyong can barely breathe when his mother turns on him, eyes dark and narrow and deadly.

“You’re a liar,” she growls, dropping the bottle and pills onto the coffee table. “You haven’t been taking them at all!”

“I-I’m sorry! I tried, but they mess with my head. They make things all fuzzy. I can’t focus!”

She stalks up to him and reaches down to yank him up by his arm, shaking him in the process. “You’re supposed to be taking them!”

“Mom, let me go! You’re hurting me!”

“You’re in so much trouble, you brat. You’ve been skipping dosages, lying to me. Now, you’re starting rumors about me? What the fuck did I do wrong with you, huh?”

He lets out a sob as her nails dig into his skin, his body sore when she shakes him again. His eyes burn with tears. “Please, I didn’t mean to. And I’m not lying. I know you’re cheating on dad.”

The sting comes far after the sound. A crack like thunder. Solid and quick. His mother’s hand hovers in the air even when Taeyong’s turning back, cheek warm. There’s a beat, a moment, where they just stare at each other.

People have always said Taeyong took after his mother. Their eyes, their slender fingers and stature, their cheekbones. They always say he’ll be a ‘looker’ like his mother, a heartbreaker. Taeyong’s never wanted that to be so wrong before.

He bolts, but he doesn’t make it far. His mother is on him, gripping him by the arms and pulling him back, screaming at him. He can’t understand any of the words anymore. He doesn’t want to listen to them. He just knows he needs to get away because the images in his head are terrifying and they look like they’ll hurt and Taeyong doesn’t want to be hurt anymore.

“Let go of me!” he shouts as she drags him down to the floor and presses a knee to his chest. “Please,” he croaks. “Let me go!”

“Not until you take your fucking pills and you listen to me,” she spits. “Maybe you just need a higher dosage.”

“ _Please_.” He’s sobbing now. It’s making it hard to breathe. His throat is sore. “Please, let me go.”

_Useless child._

_Liar._

_Make him pay._

A hand presses to his mouth and it takes a moment to realize there are pills entering. A lot of them. He chokes when one hits the back of his throat. He tries to pull away, to shake his mother off, but her knee is a heavy pressure and her hands are firm as she shoves the pills farther and farther past his lips. He feels them start to dissolve against his tongue.

“Take them!” she shouts. “Swallow them!”

He’s not sure how he gets his hand free, but he does and it shoots up towards his mother’s face, hitting her right in the nose. She lets out a yelp, falling backward. Taeyong doesn’t stay. He’s up on his feet, just a little disoriented, and coughs up the few pills that haven’t yet dissolved in his mouth all over the floor as he makes his way out of the room.

There’s a shuffle and a yell and he knows she’s behind him. She’s coming after him. So, he races down the hallway, tripping into the wall. It’s enough time for her to round the corner and try to drag him back with her power. He digs his heels in and reaches for the nearest door. It takes all his strength to pull himself inside and slam it close, shattering the hold on him.

The lock is barely switched when his mother bangs on the other side, telling him to let her in. Screaming threats at him if he doesn’t. Tears are hot on his cheeks as he coughs some more, trying to get the taste of medicine off his tongue. It’s bitter and already starting to affect him, his mind not liking the medicinal block. He thinks he’s swallowed a couple on accident, but he can’t do anything about it now.

He presses himself against the opposite wall, watching as the door shakes and groans. Glancing up at the window, he makes a split decision. He needs out.

It’s not an easy fit, but he’ll make it work because he can’t stay. Not now. Not ever. He unlocks it and slides it open. Using the toilet seat, he pulls himself up, shimming himself though the small opening as his mother’s screams get louder and louder and his mind gets foggier and foggier.

 _Luhan_.

That’s all he can grasp onto now.

 _Luhan. Help_.

When he lands in the grass, body aching and eyes misting, he gives himself a moment to gather his breath. Then, without looking back, he runs. He squeezes his eyes shut as the screams of his mother call out his name.

“Taeyong, get back here! Taeyong!”

But he keeps running.

“Taeyong! Wake up!”

His body jolts, shooting forward and nearly flying off the end of the bed. Hands catch him before he can. Gasping for air, he turns wide eyes on Johnny. His face is barely visible in the dark, but Taeyong would know that figure anywhere.

He grips at the sheets. His face is wet from tears that just keep coming even now that he’s awake. His heart feels like it’s running a marathon and can’t keep up. Everything hurts.

“It’s okay,” Johnny whispers as he sits on the edge of the bed, looping his arms around Taeyong and bringing him close. “It’s okay. It was just a nightmare. It was just a dream. Nothing can hurt you anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking around the words. He clings to him, tired and still terrified. “I’m sorry.”

Johnny shushes him. “Don’t be. You’re okay. Everything’s okay. Just breathe.”

“It was her. It was her again.”

“Don’t talk right now. Just focus on calming down. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Pressing his face into Johnny’s shoulder, he cries because, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop it. Out of everything to happen right now, in the last week, this was the last thing he could have ever wanted.

But at least he’s safe now.

“Here,” Johnny says, holding up Taeyong’s phone. “It’s been buzzing.”

Gingerly, he takes it. He freezes.

**Jaehyun:**

**Are you okay?**

**Taeyong?**

**I’m calling Johnny.**

**Are you okay?**

Taeyong glances up. “He called you?”

“Called just when you started yelling. I would have gotten up anyway,” he says with a shrug.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This isn’t your fault. People have nightmares.”

“Not like this.”

Johnny sighs. “Maybe it’s time you look into seeing someone.”

“I don’t like therapists.”

“You need to talk to someone, Taeyong. Your life hasn’t been easy. In fact, it’s been pretty fucking awful for a good part of it. I don’t care if you hate shrinks. You need to deal with these issues. I’ll help you look for one that makes you comfortable.”

“Johnny—”

“No, I’m not arguing about this anymore. We’re doing this, all right?”

Taeyong turns back to his phone and types out a response. **No. But I will be.**

The reply is quick.

**Jaehyun:**

**Good.**

**Taeyong:**

**Are we talking again?**

He feels stupid for asking it so suddenly, but he needs to know. It’s been days since Jaehyun’s talked to him and this feels like both a relief and the most painful thing Taeyong’s ever gone through.

But he doesn’t get a response. Instead, all he hears is: _Good night, Taeyong._

“Do we have a deal?” Johnny asks.

He rubs at his eyes. They’re sore. “We can talk about it.”

“Good.” He pauses before slowly saying, “By the way, I ran into Jaehyun yesterday.”

“Please tell me you didn’t clock him.”

“I didn’t. I wanted to. But I didn’t. I did, however, ask about you.”

Taeyong groans, running his hand down his face. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s been a week and he’s still avoiding you,” states Johnny. “I don’t care what the issue is, but he needs to talk to you properly. I mean, you were dating. And then he just walked out like the biggest hypocrite in the world.”

“He’s not a hypocrite.”

“He is and you know it. He has the power to invade someone’s feelings. Reading minds isn’t all that different. So, why the hell did he leave? Out of anyone, he should have understood.” Johnny frowns. “And to do that to _you_ of all people. After everything.”

“He doesn’t know, Johnny. I never told him. All he knows is that I have issues with my parents. Wait, you didn’t tell him, did you?”

Shaking his head, Johnny says, “No, I didn’t tell him. I wouldn’t do that to you. But I really think you should.”

“I’m not going to guilt-trip him into talking to me with a sob story,” Taeyong tells him. “That’s the worst thing I could do.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I just think that maybe you should open up and let him know what’s really going on. Be honest, for once. And then, if he really doesn’t want anything to do with you, I’ll clock him.”

“You’ll break his face.”

“He’ll have deserved it. He clearly really liked you, Tae. If he did, this shouldn’t be that big of a problem. When I spoke to him, he didn’t seem mad. He just seemed resigned. And, believe it or not, I think he wants to talk to you just as much as you want to talk to him. He’s just not sure how to do that.”

Taeyong picks at the sheets. He’s not really sure he believes that, but Johnny truly does. That just might be enough to convince him to try once more. To see if he can reach out. Maybe.

Sensing Taeyong doesn’t want to talk anymore, Johnny pats his thigh and starts to get up from the bed. “Come on, I’ll make you some tea.”

Even though Johnny’s left, Taeyong stays in his bed, blankets wrapped around his legs. He can’t move. His body’s completely shut down. The only thing he can do is stare at Jaehyun’s name at the top of the screen.

Hesitantly, and almost numbly, he types out a message. He knows he won’t get a reply. Jaehyun’s already turned back to the idea of sleep. It’s a message he’s said before, and he’ll keep saying it and, while he knows in-person is better, he’s pretty sure he won’t get that chance.

He hits send before he can stop himself. Slowly, he gets off the bed and heads towards the sound of Johnny destroying the kitchen, leaving his message still on the screen until it goes black.

**Taeyong:**

**I’m sorry for everything.**

**I should have told you when I had the chance.**

**Even if you never forgive me, I hope you know**

**that I still care about you. Maybe even love you.**

**I don’t expect you to reply. I just needed to tell**

**you that you were the best thing that ever**

**happened to me. Still are.**

*

Johnny finds a therapist a little too fast for Taeyong’s liking and it takes no time at all to know that Johnny’s had the card under his lamp in his room the entire time since they moved in and just never thought about it until now. After years of being Taeyong’s friend, he’s learned a few tricks to keep things secret.

Taeyong hates that he can do that.

Regardless of all that, it takes a couple days before Taeyong agrees to set up an appointment. He still doesn’t want to go. He’s never liked the idea of unloading his problems onto other people when he can help it. The only people who really know about his past are Johnny and Doyoung, but even they don’t know the whole thing. Talking to a therapist feels wrong.

Johnny, unfortunately, thinks it’s a brilliant idea and even makes sure Taeyong goes into the office. He wants to make sure Taeyong didn’t try to bolt.

The ticking of the clock is faint and beats in his ears at a frequency that doesn’t help his headache. He hasn’t said anything. He’s spent the last forty minutes trying to both read Dr. Kim’s mind, while also not. He wants to know what Dr. Kim thinks of him, but at the same time he knows he shouldn’t be intruding. It’s a conundrum he’s not sure how to break out of.

“Why don’t we start about why you’re here?” Dr. Kim inquires, finally breaking the silence. He’s been staring at Taeyong, just as much as Taeyong’s been staring at him. Someone was bound to break first and Taeyong’s kind of glad it wasn’t him.

“I don’t really want to be here,” he admits. “My friend thought it was a good idea.”

“And why’s that?”

Dr. Kim is a man in his late-thirties with dark hair that curls at the edges and equally dark eyes that seem to hold hidden knowledge. He’s not a mind reader—Taeyong would have felt that—but he’s also not a Negate, judging by his empty wrist that doesn’t hold the crossed out zero tattoo. In the end, it doesn’t really matter what his ability is. All that matters is that he’s here to judge Taeyong and Taeyong isn’t really into that.

“He thinks I need help?” Taeyong offers with a lift of his shoulder in a half-shrug.

“What kind of help?”

“I don’t know. I get nightmares, I guess.”

Dr. Kim writes something down. “Do you want to talk about what happens in those nightmares?”

“Not really.”

There’s a moment, when Dr. Kim stares at him, studies him, and then he breathes heavily through his nose and puts down his pen. “Taeyong, I want you to know something. These conversations are simply that: a conversation. I can’t help if you don’t want help. I’m not asking you to unload your worries and stresses if you aren’t comfortable with that. However, this is a judgement-free zone. I can’t tell anyone what you say to me, and I hope that maybe you’ll come to realize that even just talking about the things that are bothering you will help in some way. Okay?”

“Kind of a judgement-zone,” Taeyong says. “You’ll tell me what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Taeyong. There were just wrong things that happened _to_ you, and, with a little bit of help, we can figure out how to make things better. Together. How does that sound? Maybe eliminate some of that stress, yeah?”

To be completely honest, it doesn’t sound so bad.

“I still don’t want to tell you my life story.”

Dr. Kim gives him a smile. “You don’t have to. Just talk about what you’re comfortable with and we’ll go from there, okay?”

Nodding, he glances at the clock. They have ten minutes left. He’d better make the most out of it.

*

“So? How was it?” Doyoung asks as they enter the apartment. He has his music all over the living room, spread as far as he can go without having to crawl to anything. A mini keyboard is placed in his lap.

Taeyong shrugs. “All right.”

“He won’t tell me what they talked about,” Johnny complains. He kicks off his shoes and moves to jump over the arm of the couch, careful not to destroy any of Doyoung’s papers, and stretches out.

“It’s confidential,” is all Taeyong says.

“You going to come in? Or just hover by the door.”

He points over his shoulder. “Actually, I need to pick up some ingredients for my next project, so I figured I’d just walk to the store.”

“I could have given you a ride.”

“It’s okay. I want to walk. Clear my head a bit.”

Doyoung glances up from his work. “It was that bad?”

“No, it wasn’t that bad. It went fine. Well, it was silent a lot of the time, but the last ten minutes went fine. I just…I don’t know. I don’t like talking to people.”

“We know,” they say in unison. Johnny and Doyoung exchange glances before looking back at Taeyong as if they didn’t just do that.

Holding down his smile, he says, “In all honesty, you guys are probably right. It’s been a long time coming and I should have gone to someone earlier.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Doyoung shouts as he reaches for his phone. He presses a few buttons and points it at Taeyong. “Say it again. I need to get that on camera.”

Taeyong casts him his most unimpressed expression and states, “You were right. I was wrong. I needed to talk to someone. I’m doing it. I hate you both.”

“Aw, we love you, too, Tyong-Tyong,” coos Johnny. He pokes Doyoung in the shoulder. “Send me that, why don’t you?”

“Will do.”

Taeyong decides now’s the best time to escape, while they’re both distracted and happy. So, he slips out the door and heads to the elevator. It’s raining when he gets to the front door. For a brief moment, he thinks about going back to get an umbrella, but, eventually, he thinks better of it. A little water’s never hurt. Instead, he throws up his hood and starts his way down the block.

The store is one of those odd grocery-convenience store hybrids that hangs on the corner of a small plaza. Taeyong frequents it a lot given his hobby and life decisions of both normal cooking and baking to the stress kind. So much so that the workers know him. They greet him when he ducks in, soaked to the bone. One of the girls there offers to dry him off, but he politely declines, knowing he’s just going to get wet again on the way back.

Just like a kitchen, grocery stores have somehow become a safe-haven for him. Food, in general, is safe. It doesn’t have thoughts, it doesn’t talk back, and it can’t leave him. Sure, he knows how depressing that sounds, but at the same time it’s more than that because food is something that can create some pretty amazing things and Taeyong likes that even more than all the other things listed before.

He knows that this is what he wants to do. He wants to create, he wants to show people he can be more. One day, he’s going to open a restaurant or a café and he’s going to prove himself. His friends tell him he has nothing to prove, but part of him thinks there is.

There’s a reason his parents were never really parents, why people leave when he tells them of his powers. Maybe if he can show people he’s more than that, that he’s worth so much more than that, that maybe they’ll want to stay.

Gathering all the things he needs, he heads up to pay. One of the newer employees—a sweet boy, who doesn’t talk very much, but smiles happily when he sees Taeyong, anyway—rings him through.

With two bags in hand, he steps out of the store. The downpour hammers into his hood and slides down the front of his jacket. It’s cold and a little uncomfortable.

He’s at the lights to cross the street when a red SUV catches his eye. It sits in a parking spot along the side of the road, with a very familiar figure standing on the sidewalk, fiddling with his keys. The umbrella may block his face, but Taeyong knows who it is and he sort of shocks himself when he screams, “Jaehyun!” from the other side of the street.

The figure freezes. Even with the rain being as heavy as it is, Taeyong’s voice carries like a shotgun. Almost hesitantly, the umbrella tilts up and Jaehyun peeks through the droplets and around his car, eyes immediately landing on Taeyong. It’s actually somewhat shocking that he waits. He waits as the light turns green and for Taeyong to jog across the street, coming to a stop a few meters away.

Taeyong’s not sure what he expected, but he certainly didn’t expect Jaehyun to let him catch up. The sound of the rain is astronomical. It booms around them, against the sidewalk, against the store fronts, against Jaehyun’s umbrella and SUV.

He’s not sure what to say. He hadn’t really thought of it when he called out. Regardless, he’s there now and so is Jaehyun, and they’re both watching each other warily as if unsure if they should say something.

Taeyong tries hard not to let Jaehyun’s thoughts get to him, the way he keeps thinking about whether or not he should leave. But then he gets one quick moment of hope when Jaehyun thinks that Taeyong looks good, that he’s missed him, and Taeyong clings to that like a child to a toy. It’s a little pathetic, but he doesn’t care.

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun says in greeting, gaze not quite meeting Taeyong’s. He’s looking over his shoulder and Taeyong can hear the surprise, the hesitance, the uneasiness of it all. Taeyong thinks that his emotions are probably much worse and Jaehyun can feel all that.

“H-How are you?” asks Taeyong. He takes a step forward and he’s glad Jaehyun doesn’t try to move away. It does, however, manage to catch his full attention, bringing his eyes back to Taeyong’s face and, god, he looks good. Really good. Taeyong’s missed him so much it hurts.

“Fine,” is the response he gets. “You?”

“Been better,” he admits. “I’m seeing someone, though.”

He catches onto his phrasing a little too late because Jaehyun winces and there’s a burst of confusion—and maybe even a little bit of hurt—that passes through his thoughts. It has Taeyong shaking his hands, bags still clutched against his palms, hurriedly.

“Not like that!” he blurts. “I mean a therapist. I’m seeing a therapist. I just…Okay, so that was a weird thing to tell you, but it just came out and I’m not sure why I called out to you, but I needed to and I’m just really glad to see you. I-I’ve missed you.”

_I’ve missed you, too._

Jaehyun clutches at the umbrella.

_Fuck. You heard that, didn’t you?_

Taeyong decides it’s best not to acknowledge that, even if it makes his heart soar. “I need you to know that I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize again,” Jaehyun says. “Please, don’t apologize. Please, stop apologizing, okay? You’ve said it enough and it really should be me saying it to you.”

There’s a way Taeyong’s body tenses that makes him almost feel like he’s lost the ability to move, to blink, and maybe even to breathe. The bags in his hands are a tad too heavy, but suddenly he doesn’t feel the weight anymore. All he can focus on is Jaehyun, who takes a few steps forward to cover Taeyong with his umbrella.

“I shouldn’t have run out on you,” he mutters.

Taeyong shakes his head. “It’s a normal response. I get it all the time. Well, not _all_ the time, but sometimes. Most of the time.”

“You shouldn’t, though,” he says, a little more forceful this time. It sounds like he’s snapping. Except it’s not at Taeyong. It’s at all the people who left him before. “You aren’t your powers. I know that. Hell, I’ve been through it. I shouldn’t have even considered the idea, let alone done it. I hurt you and that’s all on me.”

“Why are you saying this now?”

“Honestly, I wanted to say it the moment I stepped out the door, but I was too humiliated to go back.”

“You avoided me. I know you were disappointed.”

Jaehyun worries his bottom lip. “Sure, I was. I had been so open with you about my powers and you were terrified to tell me. It wasn’t that you didn’t tell me, it was that you didn’t trust me enough to.” He sighs. “In the end, I guess I sort of proved your point.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s definitely my fucking fault, Taeyong. I was disappointed and I walked away. I left because I was embarrassed that the whole time we were getting to know each other and dating that you could hear everything I thought about you. And then I wanted to talk to you. I tried to convince myself to answer a call, a text, and I couldn’t. And the more days that went by, the more embarrassed I was.”

“I would have understood.”

“I think that just made me feel worse about it. Taeyong, you’re perfect. You know that, right?” The words make Taeyong’s face heat against the cold rain that slides down his face. A scoff escapes Jaehyun as he continues, “And I’m a mess most of the time. I try to pretend I’m not, but I am. You have done nothing wrong. It was all on me.”

While Taeyong wants to reach out, to take his hand, he knows he can’t. “I should have told you sooner.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think it would have mattered. It shouldn’t have mattered. You did what you needed to after what’s happened to you.”

His heart stutters. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean that people have chosen to live their life without you because of your ability. Why? What did you think I meant?” Jaehyun must have sensed the way Taeyong’s walls go up, the way he suddenly feels dizzy and nauseous, because his brows furrow and his voice turns soft and he’s suddenly taking Taeyong’s wrist with his free hand.

“Do you remember what I told you about my mom?” he asks, tone strained as he stares at the collar of Jaehyun’s jacket.

“Yeah.”

“When I was five, I gained my powers.” He watches as Jaehyun’s chest shift as he gasps. Five is young. Very young. “She didn’t believe me for a long time. My dad didn’t either, but, like I said, he was hardly ever around. And when she finally did start to believe me, she forced me to take suppressants. They didn’t work right. They made my brain fuzzy, so I stopped taking them. She found out. I ran away. She might have not left me like some people before, but it felt like she did. The moment she really realized what kind of ability I had, she had let me go as a son, too scared of me to accept me. I’ve come to realize that I can’t always keep the people I consider important. They tend to leave. Not all the time, but enough to make me wary, I guess.”

Jaehyun’s quiet for a moment and before he can say anything, Taeyong carries on, “I should have known better. Maybe if I hadn’t been so terrified this never would have happened. You’ve been through it before. You’ve said it yourself.”

“Not like that I haven’t,” Jaehyun whispers, his voice barely carrying over the rain. “I understand your hesitance. I don’t blame you for that. I don’t blame you for any of it. I’m so sorry you had to watch me walk out on you.”

Taeyong’s breath hitches when Jaehyun’s hand comes up to his cheek, fingers cold like ice as he wipes under his eye with his thumb. He didn’t even realize he was crying again.

“You cry more.”

“Don’t give me a reason to.”

“Does this mean I get another chance?”

Taeyong coughs a laugh. “To me, you never really lost the first one.”

“You’re too nice.” Even though it crinkles his eyes, Jaehyun’s smile is tentative. “You’re perfect.”

“You have to stop saying that,” he groans, feeling the heat flush from his toes to his ears.

“Nah, I think I like watching you blush.”

“Just so you know, you aren’t the only mess. We can be messes together.”

The smile brightens. “And just so _you_ know, I love you, too.” Taeyong’s jaw drops and Jaehyun laughs. “Your text?”

Stuttering, he says, “I-I forgot—I forgot I said that and I said I _might even_!”

“Uh huh,” he drawls. “Not what I’m feeling right now.”

“You know what? Forget it. You’re incorrigible and I don’t want anything to do with you—”

He turns to leave, but Jaehyun’s already got him by the back of the neck and yanking him forward until their lips collide. The shock of the move doesn’t last long. Taeyong’s fingers release the bags, which thud against the wet sidewalk, and find penchant in Jaehyun’s hair. It’s soft and a bit damp. Taeyong lets himself lean in as much as he can, chest pressed against Jaehyun’s, his head tilting to slot their lips closer. Jaehyun’s hand flexes tighter on Taeyong’s neck. His mind goes blank and all he can feel is Jaehyun against him.

Suddenly, there’s rain coming down on their heads and Jaehyun’s other hand is grabbing at Taeyong’s waist. The handle of the umbrella bounces off his leg, gaining his attention. He pulls back just in time to see the wind scoop it up and fly it down the sidewalk. The both of them watch it go.

“Shit,” Jaehyun says and Taeyong can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of him. He clutches Jaehyun’s biceps and presses his forehead against Jaehyun’s chest as his body shakes with the hilarity of it all. “Great, now we’re all wet. This is your fault.”

“You let go!” Taeyong hits him in the sternum with a closed fist. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I was already wet.”

Jaehyun raises a brow, one corner of his mouth twisting up in a smirk. Taeyong doesn’t have to read his mind to understand that face.

“Oh, shut up.” Sighing, Taeyong bends down to pick up his grocery bags. They’re dripping and probably half filled with rain water by now. “By the way, I have something else to tell you.”

“You have a twin?”

“Why do you sound so hopeful? You know what? Don’t answer that. What I wanted to tell you is that when we kiss, the same thing happens to me what happens to you.”

“What do you mean?”

The bag in his hand crinkles as he points to his temple. “My brain goes foggy. I can’t read anyone, let alone you.”

“We block each other?” Jaehyun asks, eyes wide. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that happening before.”

“Well, how many telepaths and empaths do you know?”

“Touché.” Jaehyun points to his car. “Get in.”

They do just that. It makes puddles in the seats and on the floor, but Jaehyun doesn’t seem to care. Once inside, he turns it on and cranks the heater. With a smile, he leans on the wheel and stares at Taeyong.

“What is it?” he asks, smiling back.

“You know what this means?”

“What?”

“Means I can think about your ass without any kind of shame and watch you blush.”

“Can you feel that?”

“What?”

“My insane annoyance.”

“Is that what it is? And here I thought it was undying love.”

Taeyong snorts and shakes his head. Happiness curls in his stomach and up around his heart. It’s an amazing feeling, something he’s never felt before. Sure, he had been happy when Jaehyun and him started dating, but now the stress of hiding his ability is finally gone. The fact that Jaehyun knows is elating.

_You okay?_

“Yeah,” he breathes. “For once, I really, really am.”

Jaehyun takes his hand. “I’m so sorry I put you through everything.”

“Remember when you told me to stop apologizing? Now, it’s your turn.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t make the mistake. I did.”

Reaching over the consul, Taeyong brushes Jaehyun’s wet hair back from his face. “And I forgave you. We are moving on now. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great,” he chirps. With a bit of a bounce, he plugs in his seatbelt. “Let’s go home.”

Jaehyun purses his lips. “Is Johnny going to punch me?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re not helping,” he whines.

“If we time it correctly, I can slip you past both of my roommates before either one lays an eye on you. Then, I’ll handle it from there. Deal?”

Pulling away from the curb, he says, “Deal. Hey, Taeyong?”

“Yeah?”

Holding out his hand, Taeyong takes it once again, their fingers linking together. “Thank you. For everything.”

Taeyong squeezes in reply because he knows Jaehyun can feel the way he loves him without the words. And he knows, that no matter what happens, they’ll be okay. So, it’s a bit of a mess. It’s a situation they’ll always look back on with awkwardness and maybe a few snickers because, _god_ , they are so stupid, but Taeyong will take it. He’ll take it because, even if it was a misunderstanding with a week of dancing around each other, it became…this.

It became comfort and happiness and relief. It became something Taeyong had convinced himself he’d never have. Losing his parents was one thing, losing potential friends and lovers was another, and losing Jaehyun had been heartbreaking, but Jaehyun did the one thing none of those other people did. He came back. He found Taeyong again. As cheesy as that sounds.

And Taeyong still has more to deal with, he knows that. He’s got therapy to help with his anxiety and nightmares. He’s got things he hasn’t told Jaehyun yet about his past. Except, none of those things really matter right now.

At least the big things are out of the way, he thinks.

So, yeah, Taeyong’s never liked rides and maybe that’s because his life itself is a rollercoaster. For once, though, he feels like he finally got off. This time, Jaehyun’s right next to him and there’s no way he’s letting that go.

Not by a long shot.

*Feel Free to come talk to me on [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/DiamantNoir)*

**Author's Note:**

> Superpowers:  
> Taeil – Intangibiliy – Ability to pass through physical matter  
> Johnny - Enhanced strength  
> Taeyong - Telepathy - Ability to read minds  
> Yuta – Materialization – Ability to create objects from nothing  
> Kun - Healing - Ability to heal most--if not all--injuries  
> Doyoung - Mesmerism - Ability to mesmerize people into doing what he says  
> Ten – Necromancy – Ability to see and communicate with the dead  
> Jaehyun – Empathy – Ability to read emotions  
> Sicheng – Illusions – Ability to alter or deceive the perception of reality  
> Jungwoo - Hydrokinesis - Ability to control water  
> Lucas - Teleportation - Ability to travel by folding space  
> Mark - Dream Jumping - Ability to jump into others' dreams  
> Renjun - Omnilingualism - Ability to learn, speak, and understand all languages  
> Jeno - Zoolingualism - Ability to speak to and understand animals  
> Donghyuck - Pyrokinesis - Ability to control fire  
> Jaemin - Chlorokinesis - Ability to control plants/nature  
> Chenle – Sonokinesis – Ability to control sound  
> Jisung - currently thought to be a Negate (someone without powers)
> 
> Series (Publication Order):  
> I Want You More Than I Want Superpowers  
> Live Young, Die Free  
> The Way You Want Me  
> Silhouettes Dancing  
> You Found Me
> 
> Series (Chronological Order):  
> Live Young, Die Free  
> The Way You Want Me  
> I Want You More Than I Want Superpowers  
> You Found Me  
> Silhouettes Dancing
> 
> We're reaching the end! Just two more parts! Eeeeek!


End file.
